


Matters of Life and Death

by HarleQueen21



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:46:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 45
Words: 132,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23266423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarleQueen21/pseuds/HarleQueen21
Summary: Hannibal and Bedelia adjust to their new lives in Florence as Dr and Mrs Fell, as Hannibal has just been awarded the curatorship he applied for. However, upon returning from a party one evening, Bedelia collapses in the bathroom, causing her to diagnose a condition she never imagined she would experience - one which she tries to hide from Hannibal at all costs.(Set from the start of s3, following canon as much as possible, before departing it at e3).
Relationships: Bedelia Du Maurier/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 125
Kudos: 302





	1. Chapter 1

The evening had got off to such a promising start. A charitable gala boasting Florence’s wealthy elite, each vying to patronise whichever good cause was currently a la mode. The food was divine, the champagne expensive, and the fashion decadent and beautiful. The band regaled the crowd with classical pieces which they danced to late into the evening, between glasses of champagne and polite conversation. 

The atmosphere was electrifying and the event utterly sublime, and as Hannibal led her round the room in a perfectly executed waltz, Bedelia felt her heart soar. Hannibal had just learned that he had been awarded the curatorship which he had applied for, a prestigious position which solidified their social standing and the acceptance of it into Florentine society; it was beginning to feel as though there was a place for them in this world after all. All of her reservations and fears about having abandoned the sanctuary of her previous life and identity disappeared entirely, as she was guided through the crowds by Hannibal, who could not take his eyes off her. Even the tightness of her bespoke black and gold Versace gown could not inhibit her movements not her mood; that evening was the first time in a long time that Bedelia felt completely free.

Hannibal had dipped her at the end of the Waltz, the movement fast though not completely unanticipated. As he drew her quickly into his arms once more, she felt a sudden rush of blood to her head, and a curious feeling of breathlessness. She suddenly felt very hot and unsteady, and she found herself gripping his right bicep tighter for support. Hannibal placed his hand upon her lower back and drew her closer instinctively, a look of concern in his marble eyes, as she offered him a small smile. She had been about to make a light remark about having too much champagne when Professor Sogliato and his entourage approached, and provided a distraction which quickly turned from welcome to tiresome. And, unbeknownst to them, fatal.

Although the Professor had been the one to earn Bedelia’s irritation for his petty and almost childish attempt at humiliating Hannibal in front of their colleagues; Bedelia found this tasteless and unnecessary as well as thoroughly unprofessional, though she did not hold the Professor solely responsible. Hannibal rose to the bait in a way which irked her, and no amount of her warning glares would dissuade him, despite the fact that he was clearly aware of her displeasure. She had even resorted to offering the tiresome professor a dance, which had almost worked, until he threw a retort at Hannibal which he apparently could not resist. If he knew how Hannibal dealt with such acts of rudeness, perhaps he would have tried harder.

After what felt like an eternity, the combination of Hannibal’s acceptance of the professor’s challenge to lecture on Dante, who he had quoted perfectly in front of the visibly impressed academics, the matter seemed to have been resolved. For the moment, at least.

But as Hannibal and Bedelia wove their way through the lessening crowds and made their goodbyes, she felt a familiar feeling of sickness and dread; the conflict between Hannibal and the professor could lead to the death of the latter, which would attract attention. And any attention was far too much.

“I’ve killed hardly anybody during our residence” Hannibal had argued once they’d returned to the sanctity of their apartment. Bedelia glared at him and suppressed a sigh. It was hardly the reassuring response she had hoped for. And the conversation that followed did little to comfort her. Nor did the dizziness she was experiencing once more. She was considering how much champagne she had consumed when he spoke again. “Morality does not exist, only morale” proclaimed Hannibal. And hers was plummeting.  
They spoke for a while longer, before the combination of the tightness of her dress and the frustrating conversation subject – which Hannibal did not seem to be taking seriously – caused her to long for refuge in her favourite room within the apartment.

Hannibal helped her with her dress, which she eased herself out of with relief, before running herself a hot bath and closing the door firmly behind her. She perched on the edge of the tub, closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. Peace.

The bath was ready ten minutes later, and Bedelia slowly eased herself into the welcoming waters. The combination of the bewitching scent of the jasmine and honeysuckle bath salts and the sound of music from the parlour caused Bedelia to begin to relax once more, closing her eyes and leaning back into the water’s embrace. After fifteen minutes, an exhausted Bedelia fell into a light sleep, and slipped down beneath the water.

Bedelia felt weightless and light, and overcome with a feeling of almost total calm, as though she were floating. The water was cleansing and comforting, a balm for her body and mind, the former which ached from dancing and the latter from running. For the second time that evening, she felt completely calm and relaxed, and free.  
However, within moments of her head disappearing beneath the water, Bedelia was startled from her calmness and the cusp of slumber by a sharp pain in her lower abdomen, which caused her to open her eyes immediately, pushing herself up from the comforting depths of the water. She gasped for air, her mind ablaze with confusion and fear, the pain in her belly paralyzing her and overwhelming her ability to think logically, or indeed at all. Bedelia placed her right hand instinctively on her belly, whilst gripping the edge of the gold-plated tub with her left hand, as she continued to exhale breathlessly. 

The sharp pain disappeared as quickly as it came, and for a moment she wondered whether she had imagined it. Her breathing stabilised and she took a calming breath, trying to ignore her heightened nerves and wariness, and her mind’s demands that she acknowledge something was wrong. She was just considering whether to get out of the tub and abandon her bath altogether, when she was struck with a strong, cramping pain across the base of her abdomen, which caused her to gasp and grip the edge of the tub so tightly her knuckles whitened. Bedelia closed her eyes tightly and gripped her belly, leaning forward slightly and attempting to breathe through her discomfort, the sound of music from the other room providing an almost offensive backdrop to her agony. 

The pain finally subsided after several seconds, but Bedelia found her relief short-lived, as she experienced a strange sensation of warm liquid between her legs, something warm and fast and thicker than water. Bedelia inhaled a shaky breath and looked down, the cloudy waters concealing what was beneath. Ignoring the persistent dull ache which was once more spreading across her lower abdomen, Bedelia removed her right hand from her belly and placed it between her legs, before lifting it above the waterline and gazing at it with confusion.

Her fingers were stained with blood.

Bedelia frowned in confusion and stared at her fingers, as she attempted to suppress the panic which she could feel rising within her. Her mind immediately presented an explanation which caused her stomach to drop and fear to clutch her heart in a vice-like grip. 

No, Bedelia thought, as her heart began to race in her chest, the ache in her belly growing stronger. No, I can’t be, she told herself. It’s not possible.

Bedelia placed her hand beneath the water and cleaned off the blood, before placing both hands on the edge of the bath and rising defiantly. Her legs were shaky and her belly hurt, and as she looked down she saw the blood which had stained her inner thighs be washed away by the bathwater. She clenched her jaw and winced in discomfort as she stepped out of the tub and onto the cold floor. 

The sound of disturbed water melded with the music in the next room, and as Bedelia reached for a towel and wrapped it around herself with trembling hands, she found herself turning instinctively towards the locked door. 

Even in her pained and panicked state she found herself thinking logically enough to realise that making Hannibal aware of her concerns was not an idea she could entertain. And yet, as held the towel to her and clutched her belly, warm liquid which she hoped was simply water falling from her body, she found herself turning instinctively towards the door.  
The moment, it seemed, was too fast and too sudden, and for the second time that evening she found herself overcome with dizziness once more. The pain and dizziness combined caused her to sway slightly, dark spots appearing in her vision, as she stared at a door which was entirely too far away. She could hear the familiar sound of the harpsichord in the rooms beyond, where she knew he would be.

“Hannibal” Bedelia whispered breathlessly, reaching for a nearby table for balance as she took an unsteady step forwards in a desperate attempt to reach the door.  
She was about to call out to him, louder this time, when the pain and the dizziness overcame her completely, and she found herself falling forwards, as weightlessly as she had been whilst beneath the water. Bedelia lost consciousness as she fell, her vision turning dark and her body completely limp, the side of her head striking the edge of the table, as she fell to the ground with a dull thump.


	2. Chapter 2

Hannibal had found himself lost in the music, a decadent piece he had composed himself in honour of Bedelia. Each note evoked a powerful image of her – a memory of a mannerism, a smile, the sound of her laugh, the scent of her Manuka honey shampoo, or the divine perfume she wore which his keen scent could detect lingering in a room or on a surface long after her absence. However, his pleasurable musings were suddenly distracted by the sound of a dull thud from the other side of the apartment, which caused him to open his eyes and cease playing immediately.

Hannibal tilted his head towards the source of the sound, which he quickly identified as the bathroom, and listened in silence for several moments, his keen senses focusing completely. He could hear nothing, no sound at all, not even the faint disturbance of water as Bedelia bathed. Hannibal felt his senses heighten and he rose to his feet in one calm, fluid movement, before walking quickly towards the bathroom door. 

He remained perfectly still for a moment, listening for a single sound which would break the silence, but hearing none. He tilted his head to the side and stared at the door, his eyes narrowing slightly and his nostrils flaring, as a familiar scent became apparently to him: the unmistakable, metallic scent of blood. Hannibal felt something deep within the pit of his stomach tighten.

“Bedelia?” Hannibal called, his voice calm and clear, and not betraying any of the concern which he was forcefully suppressing as he considered the situation. “Bedelia, are you alright?” he asked seconds later, having received no response previously. The only thing which greeted him was an eerie silence and the scent of blood and jasmine.

Hannibal reached for the door handle and turned it, and was mildly vexed to find it locked. Without hesitation, he lowered his hand from the handle and took several steps back, before throwing himself at the door with all his might. Hannibal ran at the panelled door several times, forcing his entire weight upon it, impatience and frustration at the heavy door’s reluctance to permit him entry – and Bedelia’s lack of response at the noise he was certain even neighbours would here – caused his heart to race in a most unfamiliar manner. On the sixth attempt at throwing himself against the door, Hannibal’s efforts were rewarded with the satisfying sound of splintering wood, and the good finally gave. With one final shove, Hannibal forced the door open and stepped quickly inside, the scent of blood and jasmine heavy in the air. However, this curious amalgamation of scents were soon forced aside, as Hannibal’s eyes befell the fallen figure of Bedelia, who was lying on the ground to his left, a large white towel covering her fallen body.

Hannibal hurried towards her, reaching her in a few steps, and crouching down beside her. She was lying on her left side, her head facing the wall and her right arm draped about her waist. Hannibal bent over her and checked for a pulse, which was thankfully strong, before tilting her head slowly towards him. Her face was pale, her lips were slightly parted and devoid of all colour. Her startling parlour was highlighted by a fresh wound to her forehead, which was bleeding freely and already showing signs of bruising, her alabaster skin turning a deep share of purple.

“Bedelia” Hannibal said quietly, as he reached for a small hand towel and pressed it gently to her forehead, as he cradled her cheek with his free hand.  
The scent of the blood was stronger now, and his keen eyes darted across her body in search of any other injury. A quick glance up revealed water and blood on the edge of the table, indicating Bedelia had reached for it before she fell, striking her head on the way down. Hannibal tilted his head to the side gradually removed the towel from her face, and was relieved to find that the bleeding was lessening considerably. The wound was not very deep and would not require stitches, but it had bled heavily as head wounds were wont to do.

Hannibal placed his thumb gently on Bedelia’s closed eyelid and drew it slowly open, watching with relief as her pupil responded to the light in the room. He stroked her damp hair and cradled her cheek, stroking it lightly with his thumb, as he continued to apply gently pressure to her head wound.  
“Hmm” sighed Bedelia, wincing without opening her eyes, as she turned her head to the right, nuzzling her cheek into his hand. His familiar touch and scent guided her back, and her initial feelings were of comfort and confusion. “Hannibal?” she asked quietly, her voice weak and her words slurred. Even in her pained and hazy state, snapshots of memories from the moments before her collapse quickly returned to her – the pain, the blood-loss, feeling of faintness preceding her revelation – and a cold fear overcame her once more. She forced her eyes open and inhaled deeply, suddenly overcome with panic, which prompted her to try and rise quickly from the floor. Hannibal placed his left hand on her shoulder and encouraged her to lay back.

“I’m here” Hannibal responded, relieved that Bedelia had recovered consciousness quickly and appeared to be recovering. “I need you to stay still, Bedelia” he explained, his voice calm but authoritative. “You’ve hit your head, and have lost a considerable amount of blood” he advised.

Bedelia inhaled sharply and drew her arm instinctively around her belly, which was sore but no longer as painful as before. She quickly realised that she was no longer bleeding, and hoped that the bathwater had washed all traces of blood from her body. Her head injury was providing a convenient, albeit painful, distraction; she knew Hannibal would be able to smell her blood, and was relieved that he seemed focused on the immediate source, and would not search for others. She pressed her thighs together instinctively and drew her arms around her abdomen, pulling the towel tighter against her body.

“Are you alright?” Hannibal asked, his voice gentle and his tone sincere. Bedelia swallowed hard and nodded, blinking languidly before meeting his gaze.  
“I’m fine” she responded, her voice sounding more confident than before. “I slipped on the wet floor” she advised. “Too much champagne” she added with a small smile. Hannibal held her gaze for a moment, and she returned it, before pressing her right hand onto the ground and pushing herself up into a sitting position. She had to get out of here, out of this room, before Hannibal had time to question what really happened. “I’m fine” she repeated. Her words, however, were starkly contradicted by the strong wave of dizziness she experienced as she rose too quickly, prompting her to reach out for him, clutching at his waistcoat for support.

“Bedelia, stop. Stay still” Hannibal returned, placing his left arm around her waist and drawing her close to him as she rose. He felt Bedelia’s heart beating quickly against his chest, as the scents of blood and fear melded, hanging heavily in the room. He looked into her eyes and stared at her as she looked slowly back up at him.  
“I think I need to lie down” Bedelia said slowly, as she slowly lowered her trembling hands from Hannibal’s attire. He held her gaze and nodded slowly, before placing his right arm beneath her knees and wrapping his left around her waist.

“Hold on to me” he instructed, before gathering her in his arms and rising to hit feet in one fluid movement. 

Bedelia placed one arm around his neck and draped the other across her belly, ostensibly to ensure her towel remained in place. She pressed her thighs together tightly, and let out a long, calming breath as she rested her head against Hannibal’s chest. His heart was beating strong and steady, and she found the metronome comforting.  
Bedelia closed her eyes and tried to breathe calmly, suppressing feelings of dizziness and rising nausea, as Hannibal carried her carefully through the apartment and towards the bedroom. Her eyes drifted open as she felt him lower her onto the bed, where she was greeted by soft sheets and down pillows. Her stomach was sore, her head was throbbing and she was feeling very, very afraid. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath to compose herself, before looking up and meeting Hannibal’s gaze as he eased himself onto the edge of the bed, his eyes watching her with a combination of interest and concern.

“I’m fine, Hannibal” Bedelia assured him, her voice quiet but confident. “I just need to rest” she added. Hannibal’s eyes drifted up towards her head injury, which looked sore but was no longer bleeding. He reached up and stroked some of her damp hair away from the wound, where it had become adulterated with her blood.  
“I need to dress your head injury” Hannibal explained gently. Bedelia blinked languidly and nodded in agreement, as he stroked her cheek and then lowered his hand from her body, placing it beside her on the bed. “I’ll be right back” he assured her. 

Bedelia nodded once more, and regretted the motion instantly, the pain causing her to wince. However, as she watched Hannibal rise from the bed and walk slowly out of the room, she found herself feeling a strong and sudden feeling of relief. She pressed her hand to her mouth and released the staggered breaths she had been suppressing, closing her eyes tightly and blinking back tears which she did not understand, and refused to allow to fall. Her right arm, which had been wrapped around her belly, tightened its hold almost protectively, and she gazed down at herself curiously, as though seeing her body for the first time.

Bedelia looked up towards the doorway and listened out for Hannibal, who she knew would be in the kitchen assembling the medical supplies. Knowing she had mere seconds before he returned, she turned her attentions back towards her abdomen. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the fold of the towel, and slowly drew it back, revealing the tops of her thighs. A small amount of drying blood stained her pale skin, but it was clear that she had not bled since the incident in the bathtub. Relief flooded her, and she quickly replaced the towel and leaned back against the bed; if she had continued to bleed, Hannibal would certainly have noticed, his senses being as strongly attuned as they were, there would be no hiding it from him. But perhaps now there might be. However, the relief she experienced was almost immediately replaced by feelings of shock and deep sadness, the reasons for which she understood but desperately attempted to suppress. Thankfully, Hannibal’s return to the room with a silver salver laden with warm water, cotton, iodine and steristrips provided an ample distraction.

It took Hannibal less than five minutes to clean and dress her wound, and she spent the entire duration of his ministrations in silence, feeling embarrassed, afraid and very exposed.

After Hannibal finished tending to her injury and checked her pupil responses with a small torch, Bedelia watched as his eyes drifted across her body, before resting on the arm draped across her belly, where his gaze lingered for several moments. She inhaled sharply as he looked up at her and met her gaze. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No” Bedelia responded, a fraction too quickly. Hannibal held her gaze and she knew immediately that he did not believe her. It was also clear that he had noticed another source of her current discomfort. “I think I may have bruised my side…” she began, splaying her fingers across the side of her belly, “but it’s nothing” she assured him, holding his gaze with confidence.

Hannibal stared at her for a moment, before looking down towards her belly. He placed his hand tenderly over hers and she swallowed thickly as he looked up to meet her gaze.  
“I should take a look, just in case” he responded, his voice gentle yet commanding. ]

“There’s really no need” Bedelia responded. “I’m fine” she added. Hannibal held her gaze.

Although she had strong suspicions as to the cause of her pain, bleeding and subsequent collapse, the notion of voicing them to Hannibal seemed both impossible and reckless, especially now. If there had been a-

A child.

A fetus, she corrected herself, forcing herself to abandon the primal feelings of concern, connection and protectiveness such a term evoked, it would be gone now. If not now, then certainly soon, and there was no one who could do a thing about it. She was forty-five, had suffered abdominal pain and bleeding and had subsequently collapsed. There was no point in telling him her suspicions, mainly because she was confident there would be no evidence to support it. She inhaled sharply and felt tears sting her eyes, prompting her to close them in an attempt to suppress them. How could she mourn the loss of something that she had never intended to exist, and did not even realise had existed until it was gone?

“I would like to make sure” he replied sincerely, his voice drawing her from her thoughts. Bedelia tried to ignore the rising feeling of sickness in her stomach, as well as the impulse to cry. She exhaled deeply and opened her eyes.

“This is all rather embarrassing, Hannibal” she replied, holding his gaze. “It has been a very long evening and I am tired” she explained, holding his gaze as he watched her intently. “I appreciate your concern but I assure you it is not necessary” she added, her voice growing more confident with each word. “I just need to sleep” she said simply, offering him this half lie; although she was tired, she knew she would not sleep.

Hannibal stroked the back of her hand with his thumb and nodded in understanding.

“I understand” he assured her, his voice low and gentle as he spoke. “But as you hit your head and lost consciousness, albeit briefly, we need to keep you awake for a while” he explained. Bedelia nodded slowly in response. He was quite correct, of course. She gripped her towel tightly.

“I’m feeling rather cold, Hannibal, and” Bedelia began quietly, her voice gentle and sincere, “exposed” she added, holding his gaze as she spoke. Hannibal listened attentively and waited patiently for her to continue. There was understanding in his eyes. Bedelia was a proud woman and feared appearing weak to others. “Perhaps you could prepare us some drinks whilst I get dressed, and we can spend some time in the parlour” she suggested. Hannibal’s keen eyes held her gaze and he nodded.

“Of course” he responded, rising to his feet slowly. It was clear she was feeling embarrassed and somewhat out of sorts, and needed a few minutes to compose herself. He would offer her assistance but knew to do so would be in vain. “Please let me know if you need me” he added. Bedelia nodded and smiled politely.

“I will” Bedelia assured him. Hannibal smiled softly and nodded, before leaning towards her and kissing her tenderly on the cheek. She heard him inhale deeply as he tasted her, and she gripped the towel tighter in her hand as Hannibal slowly leaned back. There was something different about her scent. “I’ll be five minutes” she stated confidently, distracting him momentarily from his thoughts. Hannibal rose to his full height and nodded, before turning on the spot and walking out of the room and closing the door behind himself, the matter of Bedelia’s scent weighing heavily upon his mind.

Moments after the door closed behind Hannibal, Bedelia clamped her hand to her mouth and leaned forward, hot tears bursting from her eyes as she was wracked with sobs, her entire body trembling. Fear and emotion overcame her almost completely, and she clenched her jaw tightly to suppress a primal scream, as her arm still rested across her abdomen.


	3. Chapter 3

Bedelia allowed herself just a few minutes of sobs which bordered on hysteria, before inhaling a deep breath and releasing it slowly, her heart rate stabilising as she calmed herself. 

Before her emotions overcame her once more, Bedelia held her towel close to her body and eased her legs off the side of the bed, rising unsteadily to her feet and making her way tentatively towards the long mirror against the far wall. She blinked dazedly at the reflection which greeted her, a woman she hardly recognised, with a startling pallor and deathly pale lips which were starkly contrasted by the black mascara and eye-liner which her crying had disturbed, turning it into a battle scene upon her face. It seemed oddly appropriate, somehow.

Bedelia swallowed hard as she considered her head injury, which Hannibal had tended to with surgical precision, before taking a step back. It was then that she noticed her right arm cradling her aching belly almost protectively. She inhaled a shaking breath and removed her hand, before turning on the spot and walking mechanically into the en suite, locking the door behind her.

The en suite bathroom to her and Hannibal’s room was of a similar design to the bathroom she had just bathed in, with the main differences being that this once also boasted a shower and a bidet, which accounted for its extra space. 

Bedelia pointedly ignored the bathtub and made her way over to the toilet, lifting the lid and easing herself down onto it, relieved to be off her feet once more. Although she would not admit it to herself, much less Hannibal, she was feeling weak and rather faint, which she attributed to her recent blood loss, and she was experiencing dull, aching pains which were similar to cramping, all along the base of her abdomen. 

Bedelia pressed her lips together and tore off some toilet paper, before parting her towel and reaching between her legs. Her eyes darted down towards the paper instinctively, the white quilted fabric stained deep crimson. Bedelia’s hand trembled slightly and she dropped it into the toilet bowl as though it had scolded her, before repeating her ministrations several times until she was clean. She then rose to her feet, clutching her aching belly as she did so, before flushing the toilet and making her way towards the sink. She removed a fresh flannel from the cupboard beneath the sink and soaked it in hot water, before cleaning her inner thighs with cool detachment, every fibre of her being suppressing the emotions which had risen to the surface of her mind, and threatened to overcome her completely. She then wrung out and cleaned the flannel, before concealing it in the washing basket beneath other garments, wrapping it in a towel so it would not be found. The laundry was due to get collected the next morning, so there was little chance Hannibal would find it. And even if he did, he would not discern its significance.

She hoped not, at least.

Feeling cleaner and decidedly more human, Bedelia reached into the bathroom cabinet and chose a selection of painkillers, which she hoped would provide her with relief from her aching belly and throbbing head. She swallowed them keenly with a few sips of water, before using cotton pads and make-up remover to clean the make-up from her face. She moisturised rather half-heartedly and then turned away from the mirror without considering her reflection, before walking mechanically out of the bathroom.

Bedelia made her way slowly towards her chest of drawers and quickly selected a white silk nightdress with lace detailing, and a light pink kimono patterned with a white floral theme. She laid them on the bed and then selected some comfortable underwear (of which she had very little) and lined it with a sanitary towel in anticipation of further bleeding, which she knew was likely. Clenching her jaw and attempting to ignore the emotions which rose treacherously within her, as well as her aching belly and the pounding in her head with her painkillers were yet to remedy, as she put on her underwear and draped her towel over the top of the dressing table. 

As Bedelia made her way back towards her bed and reached for her nightdress, her gaze drifted instinctively towards her abdomen, where it lingered for several moments. Her stomach was completely flat and unblemished, betraying no signs of the changed which she knew had, until quite recently at least, been occurring within. Without thought or consideration, Bedelia found herself reaching out towards her stomach, subconsciously placing her right hand across the warm, taut skin and splaying her fingers. Her breath caught in her throat and tears stung her eyes one more, the burning sensation drawing her swiftly out of her stupor, and she lowered her shaking hand immediately, before quickly dressing.

After securing her kimono about her waist, Bedelia dried her hair with her discarded towel, before placing it in the washing basket in the bathroom and turning out the light. One more refusing to consider her reflection, Bedelia smoothed down the material of her kimono and took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly as she walked calmly across the room, opening her bedroom door and making her way through the parlour and towards the sound of the harpsichord, where Hannibal was waiting.  
The feeling of her damp hair against her neck cooled her burning skin, as she dug her fingernails into her palms and regulated her breathing in order to calm her racing heartbeat: something she was certain that Hannibal would notice. 

The sound of the music got louder and louder, and as she reached the entrance to the parlour and caught sight of him for the first time, her stomach lurched, and the tears which she had forced back threatened to sting her eyes once more. Against her decision and against reason, Bedelia found herself experiencing a strong and almost instinctive need to tell Hannibal of her discovery. Bedelia blinked furiously and reminded herself that there was nothing to tell, as she walked quietly into the room, her bare feet silent upon the polished floor. 

Hannibal, whose eyes were closed as he completed the piece of music, drew his fingers away from the keys and tilted his head towards her, staring at her appraisingly and offering her a small smile before rising to his feet and walking confidently towards her. Bedelia let out a slow breath and lowered her shoulders, forcing herself to be calm.  
“How are you feeling?” Hannibal asked, his intelligent eyes upon her, as he gently brushed her damp hair aside to examine her head injury.  
“I’m fine” Bedelia responded, her voice quieter and weaker than she realised it would be, as she placed her hand gently over his. Her voice elicited concern, which she saw in his eyes, and she offered him a small smile. “I’m just tired” she assured him. 

Hannibal considered her answer for a moment, his unblinking eyes holding her gaze, before he leaned down and kissed her tenderly on the lips. He could taste her scent upon his lips, combined with the honeysuckle and jasmine bath salts which tasted divine upon her skin. He could taste blood, too, though fainter than before, and there was something else, something bitter. They broke the kiss and he stood before her, holding her gaze.

“You’ve taken painkillers” he said gently, more a remark than an accusation. Bedelia’s gaze did not falter.

“I have” she confirmed calmly, blinking languidly as she spoke. Hannibal nodded in understanding.

“You are quite sure you're alright?” Hannibal asked, placing his left hand on her waist. Bedelia swallowed hard and forced a smile, lacing their fingers and lowering their joined hands from her face.

“Quite” she confirmed. Hannibal considered her for a moment before nodding. He then leaned forward and kissed her tenderly on her forehead, close to her injury. She inhaled sharply. 

“Would you are for a drink?” he asked politely.

“Yes” Bedelia responded on an exhale. “Yes, I would” she added. Hannibal smirked slightly and nodded, reluctantly releasing his hold upon her, before walking towards the drinks cabinet.

Bedelia watched him as he walked, handsome and alluring in his dress suit trousers and shirt, his highly polished shoes barely making a sound as he crossed the room. She wasn’t aware she was digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands with force until she felt sharp pain, which drew her instantly from her thoughts. At least her head wasn’t pounded quite so loudly as before, though her stomach was still quite tender. Her treacherous right hand ghosted over her belly, and she lowered it as soon as she realised what she was doing, cursing herself internally.

“Bedelia” Hannibal said gently, appearing before her eyes apparently from nowhere, a glass of fine whiskey in each hand. He was looking at her with curiosity and concern. “Are you alright?”

“Fine” she responded, a little too quickly, as she reached for one of the glasses. Hannibal handed it over immediately, concern permeating his features. “My head is rather sore and I’m a little dazed, that’s all” she explained, speaking the truth all the way up until the final two words. Hannibal nodded, possibly more in acknowledgement than acceptance of her words, and she felt his right hand upon her lower back.

“You seem rather disorientated” he observed, his tone one of concern and interest. “Come and sit down” he instructed, as he guided her towards one of the armchairs. “From my recent examinations you do not appear to be concussed, but I would like to make sure” he explained, as she lowered herself into the leather armchair before the fire, the flames causing her to feel even warmer than she already was.

“Hannibal, I’m fine” she added, her fear at the prospect of him examining her too closely causing her tone become terser than she had intended. She closed her eyes slowly and looked up at him, watching as he crouched down in front of her and stared into her eyes. She was both relieved and surprised to find no signs of anger or admonishment in his eyes or expression. “My disorientation is mild, and it is understandable considering what happened, but I can assure you I am not concussed” she added confidently, her tone kindlier than before. “My head is sore, it is very late and I am tired” she explained, her weary eyes and expression adding weight to her claims. “Which is also quite understandable” she added, reaching for his hand and turning his wrist over in her hand. “Given that it is currently quarter to two in the morning” she added.

Hannibal, who was satisfied that Bedelia was not suffering from concussion, nodded slowly in response. He took her free hand and drew it to his mouth, kissing the back of her hand tenderly, before releasing it.

“Drink your medicine” he instructed, and she smiled softly, raising the glass to her lips and drinking the amber liquid in small sips. It went to her head very quickly and she found herself feeling warm and comfortably numb, the pain in her lower belly disappearing almost entirely after a few minutes.

Hannibal sat in the armchair beside Bedelia, and they talked for a while, between their sips of whiskey. She was grateful that he steered the conversation topic onto safer shores, namely the lecture he would be giving on Friday, which he would spend most of the rest of the week preparing for. Bedelia’s responses and engagement in the conversation reassured Hannibal that she was certainly not concussed, and Bedelia felt equally relieved by the conversation itself, as it meant he would be suitably distracted, lessening the change of him realising what had really happened in the bathroom.

After half an hour or so, Bedelia began to blink languidly and closed her eyes, the sound of piano music on the gramophone suddenly appearing somewhere behind her. She hummed and tilted her head subconsciously towards the sound, feeling her body become heavy, as her cheek lay against the cool, comforting leather. A few minutes later Bedelia was fast asleep, and the hand which held the now empty crystal glass drifted perilously over the edge, mere inches from the ground. 

Hannibal rose from his seat and captured it moments before it fell, and laid it down on the table in front of the fire. He then returned his attentions to Bedelia, whose chest was rising and falling steadily and her breathing was deep, sure signs of the depth of her slumber. Hannibal smiled softly and leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to the side of her forehead, before gathering her into his arms for the second time that night, and carrying her towards their bedroom with care. 

Hannibal lay Bedelia down gently upon the bed, adjusting the pillows and quilt to ensure she was comfortable and warm. He then slowly undressed and got into the bed next to her, laying beside her and draping his left arm around her protectively, unaware of what was happening beneath his palm.


	4. Chapter 4

After enjoying a deep, dreamless sleep free from the fear and pain of the night before, Bedelia woke shortly after nine o’clock in the morning, considerably later than her usual time of rising. She knew even as her eyes slowly began to drift open that she was alone in the bed, though she hadn’t been for long; his side was still warm.

As memories from the night before returned to Bedelia in full force, the fear they elicited melded with her pounding head and aching belly, and causing all breath to escape her body, as she was overcome with pure dread. She was about to rise from the bed when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps, prompting her to sit up straight against the pillows and stare expectantly at the door.

The handle moved slowly down and the door opened soundlessly, revealing the figure of Hannibal, his appearance meticulous and dressed in a dark blue three piece suit, his hands carrying a large silver breakfast tray. He met Bedelia’s gaze with a faint look of surprise, and she forced a tired smile, as he approached her slowly with the tray. As he got closer, she could see that he had prepared her her favourite breakfast; scrambled eggs and salmon on a lightly toasted muffin, with a bowl of fresh fruit beautifully cut and arrange, and a large glass of orange juice. There were also two pills which she quickly identified as Amitriptyline, which had been placed on a small dish. 

“Good morning” Hannibal said warmly, as he reached the edge of the bed and placed the tray on her lap. “How are you feeling?” he asked before she could respond, his voice imbued with care and sincerity. 

Bedelia shifted slightly to accommodate the weight of the tray and looked up to meet his gaze.

“Much better, thank you” she lied. Her head was still pounding and her stomach ached almost painfully. Although she knew it was to be expected, the extent of the discomfort, given how much blood she had already lost, was very concerning.

“You’re pale” Hannibal observed, drawing Bedelia immediately from her thoughts. She smiled softly and reached for the pills.

“I’m fine” she responded with conviction, before dropping the pills into her mouth and swallowing them with a few sips of freshly squeezed orange juice. She could feel his analytical gaze upon her, drifting across her face and body, searching for anything amiss. She was determined to ensure that he would not find anything. “Thank you for breakfast” she added. Hannibal’s expression softened and she smiled.

“You’re welcome” he responded quietly, tilting his head to the side slightly as he considered her. The hand which was holding the glass of orange juice was shaking. “Perhaps you should spend the day in bed, resting” he suggested, his tone carrying an air of authority. It was more an instruction than a notion to be considered. Bedelia slowly placed her glass back on the tray.

“I have some errands I need to run in the city” she explained slowly. “And I think it would be good for me to get some fresh air” she added. The idea of being inside all day was unbearable, she needed to get out, to think. She needed some time with her own thoughts and away from this apartment. Hannibal considered her words and held her gaze with an unreadable expression.

“Surely the errands can wait?” he asked, his tone gentler than before. It was almost as though he was trying to conceal his concern.

“Hannibal” Bedelia said gentle, reaching for his hand and lacing their fingers. “I’m fine” she stated confidently, holding his gaze as she spoke. “I’m not ill” she added.  
“You collapsed” Hannibal reminded her.

“I tripped and hit my head” she corrected, holding his gaze with a confidence she did not feel as she spoke. “And now I am fine” she added slowly. 

Hannibal considered her words for a few moments, and she could hear him inhaling deeply. She swallowed hard.

“Perhaps I should accompany you” he suggested thoughtfully. “Just as a precaution.”

“There’s no need” Bedelia responded. “But thank you” she added sincerely. “I won’t be long” she reassured him. “I’ll pick up the wine and truffles from Vera Dal 1926 for lunch” she continued. 

Hannibal considered her words for a few moments. He did not wish her to feel trapped, knowing that Bedelia was very independent and would become weary by such attempts to contain her. But he was concerned for her well-being. She was still very pale, and he could tell she was in pain by the look in her eyes. And he could smell the fear on her even now. What was it she was afraid of? Him?

“You are quite sure you are well enough?” he asked.

“Yes” Bedelia responded without hesitation. “Really, Hannibal. I’m fine” she added. Hannibal nodded slowly in agreement. 

“Very well” he agreed, offering her a small smile, and slowly removing his fingers from hers as he rose to his feet. “I will leave you to enjoy your breakfast in peace” she added kindly, before turning on the spot and walking slowly out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

Bedelia released a breath she hadn’t even realised she’d been holding, and felt calmness soothe her. After breakfast she would dress and catch a train into the city, sit in a little café near the Arno river, and think. 

Composing herself and attempting to ignore the pain in her head and abdomen, Bedelia picked up her cutlery and began to tentatively eat her breakfast. She was still feeling weak and shaky, which she attributed more to the amount of blood she lost than her head injury. It also explained why she was so thirsty, drinking the pint of orange juice Hannibal had provided within minutes. Bedelia managed to eat just over half of her breakfast, and was feeling considerably more restored, when she was struck by a strong cramping pain in her lower abdomen, which caused her to drop her cutlery and reach for her belly. 

Bedelia swallowed the food which had in her mouth, which almost choked her, as she leaned forward and gripped her belly. The pain was strong and intense, and reminded her of the night before, just moments before she passed out. She felt suddenly hot and light-headed, and her head began to spin. Her instincts were screaming at her to call for Hannibal, who would only be a few rooms away, but she forced such notions aside. Instead, she gritted her teeth and clutched her belly tightly, willing the pain to stop, as it grew stronger and so intense that it took her breath away.

After what felt like an eternity, the pain finally began to lessen, just enough to enable her to formulate coherent thoughts. However, just as she was able to do so, another familiar sensation overcame her.

She felt warm liquid pooling between her legs. 

Bedelia inhaled an unsteady breath and then froze, focusing completely on what she was currently experiencing, the sensation of blood against her inner thighs causing her to panic. She almost screamed for Hannibal then, and it was with great conviction that she did not.

Instead, she swallowed hard, and carefully removed the trap from her lap, placing it next to her on the bed. She then placed her right hand on the edge of the covers and drew them slowly back, and was relieved to find that the front of her nightdress was not stained red. Taking in a deep breath, Bedelia carefully drew the silk nightdress up her body, her breath catching in her throat as she lifted it up over her hips.

Her underwear was saturated with blood, and her thighs were stained deep crimson. 

There was a considerable amount of blood, possibly even more than there had been the night before (it had been difficult to tell as she had been in the bath). But it felt the same, if not worse. 

Feeling her bottom lip tremble as tears stained her eyes, Bedelia pushed herself up off the mattress and eased herself off the bed, trying not to stain the cream bedding as she rose. Her legs were shaking and she felt very unsteady, but as she turned back towards the bed and found no trace of her secret, she was comforted by relief. But not completely. 

Pressing her lips together to prevent herself from crying, Bedelia made her way towards the bathroom as quickly as she possibly could, locking the door behind her and hurrying towards the toilet.

She said down and removed her underwear quickly, allowing them to fall to the ground as leaned back against the cold porcelain. She was still bleeding.

Bedelia clamped a hand to her mouth and closed her eyes tightly, feeling panic and fear threatening to overcome her entirely, if she let it. After a few minutes she managed to calm herself down, and began to tentatively clean herself. She tried to force herself to deal with the situation with a level of cool, medical detachment, and she almost succeeded. Until she didn’t.

Sobbing gently for a reason she refused to acknowledge, Bedelia finished cleaning herself and flushed the toilet, checking afterwards to ensure that there were so physical signs remaining of what had just happened. She then quickly cleaned her inner thighs with a warm, soapy flannel, which she placed in a cosmetic bag, together with her underwear, ready to dispose of outside. Hannibal would find them if she left them in the apartment.

Bedelia’s hand trembled as she carried the sealed cosmetic bag back into the bedroom, and made her way mechanically towards the chest of drawers as she had done the night before, copying her routine almost exactly. She selected a set of fresh underwear, using sanitary products in case she should bleed further, and then wrapped her kimono back around herself and eased herself onto the seat of her dressing table.

For the first time since her collapse, Bedelia forced herself to look into the mirror, and her eyes widened at what she saw. Her eyes were glassy and slightly bloodshot, and dark circles had formed beneath them, which seemed even darker when contrasted with her startling pallor. The gash to her forehead, which had not bled but was developing an impressive dark purple bruise, could thankfully be concealed by her fringe, but only just. She looked, she considered, almost as bad as she felt. 

Almost.

As she inhaled slowly and took in a deep, restorative breath, Bedelia placed her right hand on her aching stomach, where intense cramps were still afflicting her in torturous waves. Despite her previous conviction that she would tell no one of this matter, and simply allow nature to take its course as it had already decided to do, she knew that she needed medical attention; the pain was intense and the blood loss bordering on severe; the amount of blood she had lost already during this… event, was not typical of an early-stage miscarriage, it seemed too severe, and the pain was blinding. She felt weak and dizzy and shaken, and although she would not admit it, she was afraid, and not just for her own well-being. She knew from experience that there was a very high chance Hannibal would notice that something was amiss; their psychiatrist-patient relationship meant they knew each other intimately in an intellectual and emotional sense, but there was only so much she could conceal from him. And only for so long. 

With a trembling hand, Bedelia hastily applied her make-up, using more concealer and foundation than she would normally for a simple trip into the city, to conceal her illness from both Hannibal and herself. She chose make-up which would accentuate her eyes and give her a healthy glow, and used a lipstick which was several shades lighter than her preference, fearful that anything darker would give her away. After brushing her hair applying her favourite perfume by Chanel, Bedelia found herself feeling decidedly more human, and her confidence in her ability to do what was necessary increased considerably.

At least, it started to, until she rose to her feet and was struck by a wave of dizziness so strong that she immediately regained it. It took almost a full minute of deep, soothing breaths before she made a second attempt, this time successful. Ignoring the aching in her lower abdomen, which she was subconsciously cradling, Bedelia made her way towards her wardrobe and selected a black skirt and white blouse. She decided to forgo tights, the notion of having to bend down to put them on too troubling, and she selected a slightly shorter pair of stilettos than was her wont. 

After dressing as quickly as she could, Bedelia selected her deep purple Versace coat and the fox-fur scarf Hannibal had recently bought for her, adorning them with relief as they concealed her broken body. She then transferred her most necessary items from last night’s clutch bag into today’s Chanel purse, into which she also placed the cosmetics bag containing the remnants of her secret. Pursing her lips as she zipped up the bag, she took in a deep breath and made her way towards the bed, returning it to some semblance of order before picking up the silver tray which contained the remains of her breakfast, and carrying it out of the bedroom.

Bedelia exhaled slowly and refused to acknowledge the pain in her lower abdomen, which ached mercilessly as she walked. Clenching her jaw and battling her dizziness, she placed the silver salver on the countertop in the kitchen, before making her way slowly towards the study, where she knew Hannibal would be. She found him sitting at his desk, surrounded by half a dozen aged texts. He was engrossed in one of them, upon which he was making comprehensive notes. But he heard her the moment her footsteps approached the door, and looked up to greet her with a smile.

“I’ll be back by one” Bedelia informed him, her tone adopting a calmness she did not share. “With the truffles” she added with a small smile. She felt herself being medically assessed by Hannibal’s keen eyes, and she gave nothing away, nothing to concern him, which was seemingly confirmed by his words.  
“Have a nice morning” he responded, his voice warm and sincere. Bedelia clutched the bag tighter and forced a smile, before turning on the spot and heading out of the apartment.

She was quite certain that she would not.


	5. Chapter 5

Bedelia closed the apartment door behind her and made her way towards the staircase, holding onto the bannister tightly with her leather-gloved hand as she descended. She still felt weak and rather light-headed, and was pointedly trying to ignore the painful cramping in the base of her abdomen as she exited the building and made her way down the pavement.

It was a busy Wednesday morning and the city was filled with life; busy men and women in suits hurrying alone the pavement and across the road, tourists staring at the splendid sights in Florence for the first time, and locals going calmly about their business, seemingly unaffected by the beauty of the city. 

Bedelia wove her way effortlessly through the crowd and made her way towards the nearest taxi rank. She was very grateful it was such a short journey, as she was feeling increasingly dizzy and had a strong impulse to sit down. She purchased a bottle of water from a the newspaper stand of a local vendor and made a beeline for the taxi rank, grateful that there were six cabs and just one person ahead of her in the line. She waited until the person ahead of her - a rather loud older gentleman having a very animated conversation on the phone in rapidly-spoken Italian – had got into his taxi and departed, before she approached the next one in line. She bent down slightly to address the driver, which was an action her aching belly instantly caused her to regret, prompting her to gasp in pain and place her hand on her abdomen. The cab driver, a man in his late fifties wearing a threadbare suit, lowered his cigar from his lips and looked up at her with concern.

“Are you alright, Signora?” he asked in Italian, sincerity and concern etched in his voice and eyes. Bedelia forced a smile and nodded, ignoring the pain as she did so, but not removing her hand from her abdomen.

“Yes, thank you” Bedelia responded in Italian, her voice wavering slightly as she spoke. She cleared her throat and continued. “Could you drive me to the Medical Service Firenze please? In Via Roma?” she asked. The man nodded enthusiastically in response.

“Si, si” he assured her, before removing his seatbelt and exiting the cab. Bedelia stood up straight and stared at him with confusion, watching as he made his way around the front of the vehicle until he was standing beside her. He placed one hand decorously on her upper back and opened the car door with the other. “Please, sit down, Signora” he said kindly, his eyes drifting from her face to the hand which she had clamped to her stomach. The beautiful lady was very pale, and there was pain in her eyes. “We will be there in a very few minutes” he assured her, offering her a small smile.

Bedelia once again found herself on the brink of tears, which she attributed to the pain, and she forced a small smile and nodded in response. 

“Grazi” she replied sincerely, allowing the kindly man to assist her into the cab and close the door behind her. As soon as it was shut, Bedelia put on her seatbelt and placed her bag in her lap, returning her hand to her aching abdomen once more. She closed her eyes tightly and, for only the second time, and for a reason she could not fathom, permitted herself to cry.

But only for a moment.

Bedelia then swiftly wiped her eyes with her gloved fingertips, furiously brushing the tears aside, and taking a deep, restorative breath. The taxi driver, who had been respectfully silent until that point, looked at her in the rear-view mirror and spoke, the sound of his voice startling her from her thoughts.

“You are sure you are alright, Signora?” he asked. Bedelia nodded and turned towards him.

“Yes. Thank you” she replied, forcing a small smile and turning to look out of the window, hoping that would be the end of the conversation. His kindness was overwhelming and undeserved which, combined with the intensity of the pain she was experiencing, was almost unbearable. She swallowed hard and let out a long, slow breath.

“Can I call someone for you?” the man asked. “Your husband, perhaps?” Bedelia’s breath caught in her throat and her eyes shone with tears once more. She wiped her eyes and cleared her throat quietly. “Forgive me, Signora-”

“There’s nothing to forgive” Bedelia assured him, turning towards him and offering him a weak smile. “I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well” she explained. The driver nodded slowly in response.

“The doctors, they will help you” he replied. Bedelia nodded absently. “They are very good” he added, watching as the beautiful woman stared distractedly out of the window.  
Bedelia spent the remainder of the brief journey in silence, for which she was grateful, as it provided her with a precious few minutes to collect her thoughts and decide on the best course of action.

Whilst she was in considerable discomfort bordering on pain, she had been initially reluctant to seek medical assistance for the miscarriage; she had lost a considerable amount of blood already, and the pregnancy was clearly at a very early stage, so there was nothing anyone would be able to do to save it. If that was, indeed, what she wanted to do. Bedelia immediately dismissed this line of thought, deeming it irrelevant in present circumstances. She was seeking medical attention because it was necessary; her well-being was compromised not just by the miscarriage, but the risk of Hannibal realising what had happened. Would he consider her rude for not telling him about it? Would he blame her for ‘allowing’ it to happen in the first place? Hannibal Lecter had killed (and eaten) people for much less.

Before Bedelia could disappear further down that particular rabbit hole, the cab came to a gradual stop, and she blinked herself out of her stupor and found that they had arrived at her destination. Her stomach clenched almost painfully with fear, which she attempted to ignore. It was only at this stage that she realised her hand was still cradling her aching abdomen. 

Removing the offending hand immediately, Bedelia reached into her bag and handed some money to the driver, giving him the biggest tip he had ever received, and returning his kind offer to accompany her inside with firm but polite assurances that she was quite alright. But she was not alright, and this fact was attested by the slurred and slightly breathless manner of her speech, which caused her driver (who was a family man with five daughters) increasing concern.

In fact, she was so distracted and anxious about her impending visit that she did not notice the taxi driver exiting his vehicle and make her way towards her once more. Indeed, she only became aware of the fact after she herself had alighted, closing the door behind her and turning a little too quickly towards the building, causing her to sway slightly, dizziness overcoming her as dark spots appeared in her vision once more. She felt unfamiliar hands upon her waist holding her up against the cab, and she grabbed them instinctively, loosening her hold only when she heard the familiar voice of the cab driver offering her kindly reassurances in rapidly-spoken Italian.

“I’m fine” Bedelia assured him, somewhat breathlessly, her body shaking as she spoke. “Thank you, I’m fine” she added, attempting to take a step forward once more. It was only then she noticed that her hand had found its way to her belly once more. 

After taking just a couple of steps, Bedelia was struck by an all too familiar sensation which caused her to stop in her tracks; she was bleeding again. She inhaled sharply and froze, and was trembling when the taxi driver placed one hand on the centre of her back and took her free hand in his own, and began to guide her up the stairs.

“You are not alright, Signora” the taxi driver responded, his voice kind and paternal. “I will accompany you inside, and deliver you safely to the doctors” he stated with conviction.  
Bedelia, who was feeling increasingly light-headed and concerned, nodded absently in agreement and muttered her thanks, and was grateful for his care as he led her into the building. 

The medical centre was a modern building which was sparsely decorated and utterly pristine. The floors shone, the glass glistened, and the heavy scents of bleach and medicine. She took in and released a deep breath as she and the taxi driver approached the front desk, which was attended by a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a no-nonsense demeanour. She looked up and met Bedelia’s gaze, but before the latter could speak, her newfound companion addressed the nurse in such rapidly spoken Italian that Bedelia struggled to follow.

“Please, signora, this lady needs to see a doctor immediately” the taxi driver stated imploringly. “She is very dizzy and almost fainted outside” he added. “And there is a great pain in her stomach” he continued, gesturing towards the area in question, as though to assist the nurse in locating it. The nurse nodded in acknowledgement and then turned towards Bedelia, whom she addressed in Italian.

“Is that correct?” she asked. Bedelia hesitated for a moment before responding, finding herself feeling nervous and afraid. She wanted Hannibal.

“I believe I’m experiencing a miscarriage” Bedelia said quietly, as though she were confessing some great sin. Though she supposed, in a way, she was. She felt the taxi driver stare up at her, quietly whisper his apologies and he squeeze her hand gently, whilst stroking her back. She desperately tried not to cry. “I’m bleeding” she added, her voice breaking. The nurse nodded in understanding.

“It’s alright” she soothed, her voice becoming gentler, her kind eyes holding Bedelia’s gaze as she walked around the desk and headed towards her. “You’re going to be alright” she assured her. Bedelia swallowed hard and nodded. She believed her. “Is this man-?”

“I am a taxi driver” the man responded, his voice quiet and solemn. “I brought Signora here” he added. The nurse nodded in understanding.

“We’ll look after her now” she added, her manner kind but firm. The taxi driver nodded and released his protective hold on Bedelia, before reaching into his inside pocket and removing a slightly-faded business card, which he placed in her coat pocket.

“You call me if you need me to take you home, okay?” he said kindly, offering Bedelia a weak smile. Bedelia’s eyes filled with tears and she nodded.

“Thank you” she responded weakly. The taxi driver nodded, before exchanging a look with the nurse and leaving. 

Bedelia inhaled an unsteady breath, and felt a new set of unfamiliar hands upon her, their hold somehow both tender and firm. She tilted her head to the left and found herself staring into the eyes of the nurse.

“Come with me, Signora” she said kindly. “I will take you into a room and arrange for a doctor to attend you at once” she explained. Bedelia nodded obediently in response, as she allowed the nurse to lead her biddably down the brightly-lit corridor.

“Isn’t there some paperwork you would like me to fill out?” she asked, her voice husky with emotion. The nurse stroked her back in a comforting gesture.

“There is plenty of time for paperwork” the nurse responded. “We will attend to that once we have attended to you” she added kindly. Bedelia forced a weak smile and nodded once more. “What is your name, Signora?” she asked, as they reached an open door leading to a vacant consultation room.

“Lydia” Bedelia responded, pausing by the threshold. “Lydia Fell.”


	6. Chapter 6

Bedelia allowed the nurse to lead her into the consultation room, which was relatively small and utterly pristine, all white, glass and chrome. There was an examination table in the centre, the head of it against the wall, with a white sheet covering it. To the left was a set of metal drawers which she knew would contain various medical devices, instruments and bandages. There was a locked cabinet secured to the wall which would contain various drugs and medication, access to which would be strictly limited.

On the right side of the room was another set of drawers containing more medical necessities. On top of it were three boxes of gloves in various sizes, anti-bacterial hand gel, a notepad and pen, a clipboard with a several inches of paperwork secured to it, and a laptop computer. There was a medium-sized medical waste bin beside it. A white porcelain sink was affixed to the wall, which was utterly pristine and glistening white. On the left side of the room there was a privacy screen to the left, next to which was a chair, upon which was folded a white patient examination gown. Bedelia stopped suddenly and felt her breath catch in her throat, the gravity of the situation overwhelming her once more.  
“It’s alright, Signora” the kindly nurse assured her, splaying her fingers across her upper back and meeting her started gaze. “The doctor will take care of you, and so will I” she added, warmth and conviction present in her tone. “My name is Nurse Russo” she continued. Bedelia swallowed hard and nodded in response.

“Thank you, Nurse Russo” Bedelia responded, her voice low and slightly husky. The nurse nodded in response.

“Now, if you could please go behind the screen and remove your clothing, and change into the gown provided, I can arrange for the doctor to examine you” Nurse Russo explained gently. Bedelia nodded in response. “She will knock before she comes in, okay?” she added reassuringly. Bedelia nodded politely in response. Modesty was the least of her concerns. “Would you like me to stay?”

“No, thank you, I’ll be fine” Bedelia responded kindly. The older woman nodded and stroked her back, before assuring her she would be back soon, and leaving the room.

Bedelia remained perfectly still for a moment and gazed around the room, taking it all in. She had never found the prospect of a doctor’s appointment daunting, regardless of how delicate the reason was. Nor had she ever felt so alone and vulnerable and afraid as she did right now. But she had never been in this position before. Which was, perhaps, why she found herself feeling an almost overwhelming desire to call Hannibal, to apologise, to explain, to ask him to come and be with her. She felt quite certain that he would, out of curiosity if nothing else.

But it was too late. And not just because she had miscarried.

She had deceived him about the nature and extent of her ailment, and had concocted a reason to leave the house this morning. Although she felt relatively confident he did believe her, she could not be sure, and felt that he would be growing suspicious at the very least. She recalled a story where he told he had smelt cancer on a teacher when he had been a child. She could only imagine what he could smell on her now.

Forcing aside her rising fears of anxiety, Bedelia walked slowly towards the chair on the left of the room, picking up the white gown and draping it over the top of the privacy screen. As she placed her bag on the now empty chair, she realised that she was cradling her lower abdomen with her right hand, an act she had been unaware of until now. 

Swallowing hard, Bedelia removed her hand from her aching abdomen and removed her gloves, before undoing the belt and buttons of her coat, which she slipped off and placed neatly over the back of the chair. She then stepped out of her black stilettos and undid the zip of her skirt, wincing as she bent down to pick it up as it drifted past her thighs and down her calves. She let out a staggered breath and gripped the back of the chair to steady herself, as she draped the skirt over the centre. Her white silk blouse hung loosely about her slender frame, and she began to unbutton it, slowly and mechanically, from the top down. As she undid the final button and the blouse came apart, her eyes befell the fresh blood on her inner thighs, a not inconsiderable amount, but certainly less than previously. Bedelia felt a lump form in her throat and she swallowed hard, before removing the blouse and putting on the white examination gown, securing it at the back. She then placed her right hand back over her aching belly, and made her way slowly towards the cabinet on the left side of the room. She was considering searching for something to clean herself up with when the sound of a formal knock at the door distracted her from her thoughts.

Bedelia turned towards the sound instinctively, and hesitated for only a moment before walking slowly towards the door and opening it. She found herself looking up at a female doctor in a white lab coat. She was in her mid to late fifties, had dark brown hair which was tied back in a fifties-style up-do, and intelligent, dark eyes which gazed at her in a medical and maternal manner. Nurse Russo was standing beside her.

“Signora Fell?” the doctor asked, smiling comfortingly at her as she spoke. Bedelia had no doubt that the doctor had been fully apprised of her ailment and her demeanour, and she forced back feelings of embarrassment and wariness, neither of which she was accustomed to experiencing. “I am Dr Romano” she stated. 

“Good morning, Dr Romano” Bedelia said, stepping aside to enable the doctor and nurse to enter the consultation room. “Thank you for seeing me” she added politely.   
Bedelia felt Nurse Russo walk behind her and stand just to her left, as Dr Romano stood directly before her and offered her a small smile.

“Please, come and sit down” Dr Romano instructed kindly, as she led Bedelia towards the examination table. Bedelia, whose hand was still pressed against her lower abdomen, hesitated for a moment and turned towards the doctor before sitting on the examination table.

“I’m bleeding” Bedelia confided. Dr Romano placed a comforting hand upon her upper arm.

“I know” she assured her. “It’s alright” she added, her voice adopting the same warm and maternal yet confident tone as Nurse Russo. “Come” she encouraged, as she guided Bedelia to the examination table. Nurse Russo took her hand as she eased herself onto it, wincing slightly in discomfort, before leaning back and turning towards the doctor, who was standing to her left. “I understand you believe you are experiencing a miscarriage?” she prompted gently. Bedelia nodded. “How far along are you?” 

“I don’t know” Bedelia replied. “I wasn’t aware that I…” she continued, trailing off slightly as her voice began to break. She took in a small breath and composed herself. “I didn’t know I was until I started bleeding” she explained. The doctor nodded in understanding.

“When did the bleeding start?” Dr Romano asked, removing the clipboard from the cabinet beside her and making a few notes.

“Late last night” Bedelia responded. “I was bathing when I realised I was bleeding” she explained, remembering the night before in painful detail. “I got out of the bath and I must have fainted. Briefly” she continued. “I hit my head as I fell and my husband found me” she advised, looking up at Dr Romano, whose eyes widened. “I was only unconscious for a couple of minutes.”

“Did you seek medical assistance?” Dr Romano asked gently, her voice calm and non-judgemental. Bedelia swallowed hard.

“No” she confessed. “I didn’t believe it was necessary” she said simply. “It was clear what was happening and I knew that there was nothing anybody could do about it” she continued. “But I bled again – quite significantly – this morning, and I’m bleeding now” she added, her voice becoming quieter as she spoke. Nurse Russo placed a comforting hand upon her shoulder. 

“It’s alright” Dr Romano assured her. “You did the right thing by coming here” she stated. Bedelia nodded weakly in agreement. “Apart from the bleeding, do you have any other symptoms?” she asked.

“My stomach is… quite painful” Bedelia responded. “The cramping has become rather intense” she added. “And I’m feeling rather dizzy and light-headed, and confused, which will be due to the blood-loss” she surmised. The doctor nodded in agreement.

“You mentioned hitting your head” Dr Romano prompted. Bedelia hummed in agreement and brushed her fringe aside to reveal the injury. Dr Romano put down her clipboard and examined her.

“Did you collapse because you hit your head, or did you hit your head because you collapsed?” Dr Romano asked.

“The latter” Bedelia responded. “I fainted and hit my head as a result” she explained. Dr Romano nodded.

“You dressed the wound yourself?” she asked. Bedelia swallowed hard and shook her head.

“No, my husband did” Bedelia explained. “He found me shortly after I collapsed. Within minutes, I believe” she added. She felt Dr Romano’s eyes upon her.

“Did you tell your husband about the bleeding?” she asked gently, her voice kind and devoid of judgement.

“No” Bedelia responded immediately, pursing her lips and then inhaling sharply. “He doesn’t know I’m here” she added, anticipating the next question. “It was clear I was miscarrying, and so I didn’t see a reason to" she added, her voice low and almost mechanical. "I thought the bleeding had stopped and I just needed to rest, but I-” she continued, breaking off suddenly as her emotions overcame her once more. She looked up at Dr Romano, whose kind eyes were upon her. “I’m forty-five” she said, her voice heavy with emotion as her eyes filled with tears. Dr Romano smiled softly and nodded.

“I once had a patient conceive a child naturally at forty nine, and the first she knew about it was when she was delivering it on her kitchen floor” Dr Romano explained. Bedelia’s eyes widened slightly and she nodded in understanding. “It is less common, yes, but certainly not unheard of” she added gently.

“Apparently not” Bedelia replied, her eyes drifting down towards the hand which was cradling her lower abdomen, a comforting gesture against the pain she was experiencing. Dr Romano watched her gaze drift.

“May I examine you?” Dr Romano asked, prompting Bedelia to look back up at her and meet her gaze. “I need to examine you internally” she explained, despite doubting that this particular patient would need such clarification. Bedelia nodded in response.

“Yes” she replied, slightly breathlessly. Dr Romano offered her a reassuring smile, before exchanging a look with Nurse Russo, and then heading towards the sink where she began washing her hands

Nurse Russo helped to get Bedelia into the correct position on the table, and helped her to remove her underwear, which felt far less awkward and embarrassing than Bedelia had anticipated. As the nurse disappeared towards the medical waste bin, Dr Russo appeared at the bottom of the examination table, and Bedelia felt her gloved hands upon her legs. Nurse Russo was at her side moments later, taking her right hand in her own.

“This will be uncomfortable, Signora, but I will be as quick as I can” Dr Russo assured her. 

“It’s fine” Bedelia breathed, before pursing her lips and staring up at the ceiling, as she tried to entice her mind to take her anywhere but here. 

Bedelia winced in discomfort, closing her eyes tightly and letting out a sharp breath, as she found herself squeezing Nurse Russo’s hand tightly. She gripped the white sheet beneath her tightly in her left hand, as the sound of Hannbal’s voice appeared in her mind.

“Breathe, Bedelia” came the voice in her head, calm and comforting, confidence in each word. “It’s alright. Just breathe” he added. She could almost feel his hand in hers. Bedelia inhaled a shaky breath and opened her eyes, and she felt a curious combination of sadness and relief to be staring at the nurse, and not Hannibal.

“It’s almost over” Nurse Russo assured her. “You are doing very well” she stated. Bedelia nodded absently and turned away from her, facing the ceiling once more. After a few moments, the examination was concluded, and she gratefully lowered her trembling legs. 

Bedelia heard Dr Romano remove her gloves and watched as she threw them in the clinical waste bin, before washing her hands and collecting another pair, which she quickly put on. 

“Dr Romano?” Bedelia asked, prompting the doctor to turn towards her. There was something in her eyes which she could not quite read. “What is it?”

“It’s alright, Signora” Dr Romano soothed. “I just need to run a quick test” she explained. As she opened a nearby drawer and began to search for something. Bedelia frowned in confusion but nodded absently, turning away from the doctor and subconsciously removing her hand from Nurse Russo’s and placing it on her tender belly.

“It’s alright” Nurse Russo assured her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It will be over soon” she added. Bedelia nodded. It already was. 

Dr Romano exchanged a look with Nurse Russo and instructed her to cover Bedelia from the hips down with a white sheet, which she did with quiet efficiency. Bedelia lay completely still, finding herself feeling numb and overwhelmingly sad. And she was not quite sure why.

“Signora Fell” said Dr Romano, drawing Bedelia from her thoughts and prompting her to look towards her. There was a small device in her hand, which she handed to the nurse. “I’m just going to raise your gown and examine your abdomen, alright?” she asked. Bedelia nodded in agreement and rested her arms beside her on the bed, staring up at the ceiling once more.

Bedelia felt the doctor examine her abdomen with her hand, pressing down lightly, the tenderness of her belly causing her to wince. The doctor apologised sincerely and Bedelia politely assured her it was fine. She was staring up at the ceiling when the nurse handed the doctor the device she had provided her with. She had only caught a glimpse of it and was not entirely sure what it was, and she was too busy trying to escape the current situation to ask.

“This will feel cold” Dr Romano advised, her words bearing fruition when Bedelia suddenly felt a cold gel being placed on her lower belly. She tensed slightly, but found the temperature and texture to be almost soothing, and she resisted a strong impulse to place her hand on her belly. “It’s alright” the doctor soothed, as she turned on the device in her hand and placed it on her belly. 

Bedelia was so deeply distracted by her attempts to escape the current situation, that it took a couple of seconds of the fast, dull thudding sounds before she was drawn entirely from her thoughts. The sounds were loud, confident and strong. Terrifying realisation dawned upon her for the second time in two days, and her eyes widened. She turned her head to the side and met the doctor’s gaze, her suspicions confirmed by the fact she was smiling.

“What’s that?” Bedelia asked breathlessly, despite already knowing the answer. Doctor Romano looked up at her and met her gaze with a smile.

“That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”


	7. Chapter 7

Bedelia stared at Dr Romano in shock and disbelief, her eyes widening and her lips slightly parting, as her words played over and over again in her mind. She sat up quickly, her mind alight and her whole body trembling.

“No, it…” Bedelia began uncertainly, her voice imbued with emotion bordering on panic. “It can’t be” she added hastily, as her eyes filled with tears. “There was so much blood” she added breathlessly. She felt Nurse Russo’s hand on her shoulder, and suddenly she felt very, very warm. “I… I can’t” she gasped, her breathing becoming laboured. She felt as though she was suffocating.

Dr Romano put the Doppler machine onto the cabinet behind her and approached Bedelia, placing one hand on her upper arm and the other on the examination table.   
“Signora Fell” Dr Romano began, her voice calm and confident, as she tried to meet the gaze of her patient, who was staring blankly ahead of her. “I understand this must be quite a shock” she sympathised. Signora Fell’s bottom lip trembled and she clamped her mouth shut tightly. “But despite the blood loss, the baby has a strong heartbeat” she added, attempting to comfort her patient. Though she was becoming increasingly concerned that this news was not the relief she had expected it would be.

Bedelia nodded mechanically in response, finding herself feeling very hot and panicked, and fighting a strong urge to leave the room. How could this be? She didn’t understand. And yet, there was no mistaking the strong, rhythmic beats of the heart. Of her baby’s heart. A reminder of a decision which she thought her body had made for her, which she now found herself having to make. And she couldn’t. 

Except she could, she would, and she had to.

I can’t have this baby, she thought, her heart and her mind waging war within her body. I can’t.

Bedelia choked on a sob, and the hot tears which had been burning in her eyes spilled down her cheeks. She clamped her hand to her mouth and leaned forward, her whole body trembling. 

She could hear the doctor’s voice and the nurse’s, but could not focus on what they were saying, nor did she wish to. She was experiencing a panic attack of such fearsome intensity as the one on the night she had killed her patient. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t speak, all she could do was endure it.

After what felt like an eternity, the voices in the room grew louder and clearer, and Bedelia felt her breathing gradually begin to stabilise. The sensation of cold glass pressed against her lips drew her immediately out of her stupor, and she gasped, as she reached for the glass instinctively with trembling hands.

“Take a sip” instructed Dr Romano, and Bedelia did so obediently, the cold water soothing her as she drank it. “It’s alright, it’s alright. Just breathe. Breathe” she instructed, and Bedelia did her best, but her heart was racing so fast and her skin felt as though it were on fire. She was grateful she was sitting down, for she was fearful of fainting. Again. 

After a few moments the doctor removed the glass from Bedelia’s grasp and brushed her hair from her face. She felt very hot and she was shaking. “Try to relax” Dr Romano said gently, as Nurse Russo placed a hand on her shoulder and tried to encourage her to lay down. Bedelia resisted most strongly, and remained sitting bolt upright on the examination table, her eyes wide and her entire body shaking.

“Are you sure?” Bedelia asked finally, her voice unsteady and breathless, as she addressed Dr Russo. The doctor held her gaze with confidence and nodded in response.

“Yes, Signora” Dr Romano said clearly. Bedelia swallowed hard and nodded, her glassy eyes shining with intelligence.

“But there was so much blood” Bedelia repeated, her breath hitching as she spoke, as she stared up at the doctor in confusion, desperate for her to provide an explanation. “It’s not possible” she stated. Dr Romano smiled gently and perched on the edge of the examination table.

“The human body is remarkable” Dr Romano stated with conviction. “And the female body is designed to protect the baby from the moment of conception” she explained. Bedelia stared at her with utter bewilderment; it felt as though she was hearing the words ‘baby’ and ‘conception’ for the first time. And, in this particular context, she was. “Whilst blood-loss during any stage of pregnancy is very concerning and must be investigated, it does not always mean a miscarriage” she explained. “Though, I admit, in your case I was surprised to find evidence of the baby’s survival, considering the extent of your blood-loss and the symptoms you are presenting” she stated.

Bedelia, whose Italian was impressive but not perfect, took a few moments to internally translate Dr Romano’s explanation, before nodding mechanically in response. She felt sick and scared and confused, and she wanted Hannibal, whose confidence and unflappability would be most comforting right now.

“But it does not mean that the pregnancy is safe” Dr Romano added, her words drawing Bedelia immediately from her thoughts, and prompting her to stare up at her. “Based on the amount of blood you have already lost, together with the pain you are experiencing, it is still possible that you will miscarry” she said gently. “And, if you will forgive me, Signora, you fall into an age-bracket which means that your pregnancy is already considered to be high risk” she stated. Bedelia nodded in understanding. She knew that, just as she knew the potential risks, which Dr Romano proceeded to list. “Because of this, there is a much greater risk of miscarriage, premature labour and delivery, foetal abnormalities and even stillbirth” she explained, speaking as gently as she could. 

“Yes, I know” Bedelia responded quietly, her hands balling the fabric of the white sheet tightly against her palms. “It appears as though my body is already trying to do precisely that” she added quietly, the knowledge causing her to feel a curious combination of anger, guilt and fear, the reason for which she could not (or rather, would not) comprehend.   
“No” Dr Romano said softly, her disagreement prompting Bedelia to look up at her. “Your body is doing everything it can to protect your baby, and to keep it safe” she soothed. Bedelia scoffed and swallowed hard.

“It’s not doing a very good job” she remarked, as her right hand drifted towards her aching abdomen, cradling it subconsciously. 

“It’s doing the best it can” Dr Romano assured her. “Trust it” she added gently. Bedelia sniffed and nodded absently.

“Would you like me to call your husband, Signora?” Nurse Russo asked kindly. 

“No” Bedelia responded quickly. “No, thank you” she added, as the image of Hannibal coming to her aid the last time she was in trouble swam to the forefront of her mind.

“What have you gotten yourself into, Bedelia?” he had asked, as he surveyed the previous scene of carnage and destruction she had caused with a calmness which was almost unsettling. Bedelia felt tears sting her eyes as she desperately fought down a strong yearning for him to be here with her now. But she knew that doing so may well sign her own death warrant. She had feared his reaction to discovering she had miscarried. What on earth would he do if he found out she had not?

There was a brief silence in the room which lasted for a few moments. “I should go” she added suddenly, finding herself feeling trapped and terrified. She needed to leave. “Thank you again for seeing me” she stated mechanically, as she lowered the white sheet and her gown and attempted to get off the examination table.

“No, Signora, please” Nurse Russo implored, the maternal command in her voice prompting Bedelia to cease her actions immediately. 

“Signora Fell, you are not well enough to leave just yet” Dr Romano advised her, prompting Bedelia’s heart to race as panic threatened to overcome her once more. “You pregnancy is incredibly high risk” she explained, her voice calm but imperative. “You have lost a considerable amount of blood and are experiencing severe cramping” she continued. “You are also alarmingly pale, and it is clear you are dehydrated” she added, before taking a deep breath, which Bedelia knew would be a preamble to a suggestion which she would not like, and moments later she was proven correct. “I would like to admit you to the hospital for twenty-four hours, for observation and-”

“Thank you, Dr Romano, but I do not wish to be observed” Bedelia said, her voice heavy with emotion, as she made another attempt to get off the examination table. This time she was stopped by the doctor herself, who stepped onto the ground and head onto the silver rail on the side of the table.

“Signora, please” Dr Romano implored, holding Bedelia’s gaze as she spoke. “There is still a very high chance you will miscarry” she stated, watching as her patient’s eyes became heavy with emotion, her expression fearful. “The best chance we have at preventing that from happening is by taking care of you” she explained slowly, her voice adopting a gentler, caring tone. “You need to rest” she said kindly, placing her hand gently upon her shoulder. “And we need to get you hydrated, to replace the fluids you have already lost” she stated. “I would like to insert a saline drip to your arm, intravenously, to rehydrate you” she informed her. “If you absolutely refuse to allow me to admit you to the hospital, please at least allow me to do that” she implored. Bedelia stared at her for a moment as she considered her request, before nodding numbly in agreement.

“Alright” Bedelia agreed. “Thank you” she added. Dr Romano, who was evidently relieved, nodded in response.

“I’ll need to speak with your doctor” Dr Romano explained, prompting Bedelia to look up at her. “Who are you currently registered with?”

“I don’t have a doctor” Bedelia responded. The doctor nodded in understanding.

“I can recommend several to you” Dr Romano offered. Bedelia shook her head.

“No, thank you” she replied instinctively. Dr Romano stared at her and sighed gently. Were it not for the protective manner in which she was cradling her belly, she might have wondered whether Signora Fell wished to continue with the pregnancy at all. 

“You will need a doctor, Signora” Dr Romano said gently. A sad smile played on Bedelia’s lips.

“It doesn’t sound as though I will” Bedelia replied quietly, her voice breaking slightly as she spoke. Dr Romano swallowed hard and internally chided herself. Now, she understood.  
“The battle is not over yet” Dr Romano assured her, prompting her patient to look up and meet her gaze. “I cannot guarantee you that you will be able to carry this child to term, but I cannot guarantee that to any expectant mother” she explained gently, “I can assure you that we will do everything we can, together, to give this pregnancy the best possible chance” she stated with conviction. “If that is what you want, of course” she added gently, providing her patient with an opportunity to request an alternative to proceeding with the pregnancy.

“Yes” Bedelia said quickly, surprising ever herself with the haste of her response and the strength of her conviction. Despite not having considered the matter fully, or indeed at all, she had already arrived at her decision, and she was certain of it; in fact, there were no other options she wished to consider. Although she found it frightening to acknowledge, despite her fear at the situation, when she had genuinely believed she had miscarried, she was utterly devastated. And now, she had a second chance, or, perhaps more accurately, a first one. And her baby did too. “Yes, this is what I want.”


	8. Chapter 8

Bedelia sat motionless and silent for several moments, the strength of her resolve stunning her. The first she had learned of her pregnancy was when she had started bleeding heavily, so heavily that she had been certain she’d lost something she never knew existed. Any decision she would have had to have made had been made for her by her body, without her consultation or approval, and she had accepted it with resignation and sadness and fear, none of which she cared to acknowledge. She did not have the time or the need to consider what she wanted, because it was out of her control.

Until now.

Dr Romano had shocked her by revealing that she had not miscarried, and that the baby had a heartbeat – a strong one, too. So fast and so confident and so determined. It seemed impossible, given the amount of blood she had lost and the pain she was in, and that was without even considering the factors which made this pregnancy high risk. Despite everything, despite the medical risks and the personal ones – the dangers of carrying a child part her, part Hannibal – one emotion overcame her fears at this revelation.

Relief.

She was relieved that the foetus – the baby – had survived, and was thriving, its heart beating strongly inside her. And that was enough. That transcended the fears which began to creep into her mind which she had not had a reason to consider before, and she suppressed them strongly and immediately, focusing instead on the present. The heart was beating, the baby was alive, and she would do whatever it took to ensure it remained so; everything else could wait. Because regardless of the risk it posed to her life, and although this child was Hannibal’s, it was her baby too. And she would do everything she could to protect it.

“I’d like to insert a saline drip to get you rehydrated” Dr Romano repeated, prompting Bedelia to draw herself from her thoughts, and turn towards the older woman standing before her. “I also want to carry out an ultrasound scan, to check on the baby’s development” she added, her eyes meeting Bedelia’s, as she waited for a reaction. Bedelia smiled softly, nervous excitement flooding her, as she nodded in approval.

“Yes” Bedelia agreed, somewhat breathlessly. “Thank you” she added. Dr Romano smiled softly in response and nodded, before turning towards the nurse and instructing her to bring an ultrasound machine into the room. Bedelia shifted slightly on the examination table into a more comfortable position, and watched as Dr Romano set up the saline drip.  
“I know you do not wish to be admitted to a local hospital” Dr Romano stated, as she arranged the saline drip and stand and walked towards Bedelia. “But I would strongly recommend that you are” she said, her voice holding maternal authority. “For yourself and your baby” she added gently. 

Bedelia held the older woman’s gaze for a moment as she considered this, fear overcoming the nervous excitement which had so recently flooded her. She knew that, medically, this was the correct advice. She needed rest, rehydration and monitoring. But a brief glance down towards her watch revealed it was almost eleven o’clock, and she had told Hannibal she would be back by lunchtime. She could not fabricate a reason to remain away from the apartment for twenty-four hours, or anything close to it, especially as she was quite certain that Hannibal was already becoming suspicious and suspected that something was wrong, that she was not quite well. The only option she had to enable her to be hospitalised would be to tell him about the pregnancy, which she did not feel was an option, at least not yet. She had not had the time or the opportunity to think of anything beyond wanting to keep this baby alive, and she feared that telling him about it might lead to quite the opposite. She didn’t have a choice.

“I understand, Dr Romano” Bedelia began slowly, speaking with a confidence she had not previously possessed, “but I’m afraid I can’t” she added, speaking slowly and with an air of finality. “I assure you I will take all the necessary precautions at home” she stated. “I’ll rest and ensure I replace the fluids I have lost, and I will monitor my condition very closely” she added. “And if I do lose a significant amount of blood I will admit myself to hospital immediately” she assured her.

Dr Romano watched Bedelia closely for a few moments, and for a moment she seemed poised to argue, but thought better of it. Signora Fell was clearly a determined woman, and she had made up her mind, whatever the reason.

“Will you be alright at home, Signora?” Dr Romano asked gently. Bedelia frowned in confusion. “Forgive my intrusiveness, but you seem very concerned that your husband not find out about the pregnancy” she observed gently. Bedelia’s gaze did not falter, and she responded without hesitation.

“My husband and I are both in our mid-forties, and neither of us have children” Bedelia replied calmly. “We are recently married, and it is certainly not something we have considered” she advised. “As you said, this pregnancy is high risk and there is a chance I will miscarry” she continued calmly. “There is no reason for both myself and my husband to have to endure that” she added gently. Realisation drifted across the doctor’s features and she nodded in understanding. “I will take all relevant precautions and do all I can to rest at home, and do everything I can to ensure that the pregnancy continues” she advised. “After a couple of weeks, or once I reach the twelve-week mark, I will tell my husband” she stated, almost believing herself as she spoke. “If I am still pregnant by that time, I will consult a doctor” she added. 

“I understand, Signora” Dr Romano assured her, as Nurse Russo returned to the room, wheeling the ultrasound machine in after knocking to announce her presence. “We’ll conduct the ultrasound scan first, and I will then insert the saline drip” she explained. Bedelia nodded in agreement. “I would like you to remain here for an hour, Signora, so I can monitor you” she added. Bedelia inhaled sharply. “You are not well enough to travel at the moment.”

“Alright” Bedelia conceded, as she lay back and waited with nervous anticipation for the ultrasound machine to be set up. 

Bedelia felt suddenly very hot and light-headed once more, and leaned back against the headrest, as she took in a deep breath and released it slowly. She felt Nurse Russo drawing her examination gown up once again, as more cold gel was squeezed onto her stomach, the sensation causing Bedelia to tense slightly. She was trying not to think of anything at all, and remain perfectly calm during the examination. But the moment the wand was placed on her belly, and she felt the doctor press it down and move it across her skin, her resolve wavered. Her breath hitched and she exhaled sharply, blinking back tears which burned in her eyes. It was only the sound of the doctor’s voice that drew her back from the precipice and prevented her from falling apart completely.

“Signora Fell” Dr Romano said, her smile clear from her voice. “Would you like to see your baby?” she asked.

Bedelia found herself turning towards the screen instinctively, her vision somewhat hazy because of the tears. She blinked a couple of times and her vision cleared, and she stared at the black, white and grey image on the screen before her, her breath catching in her throat as she caught her first glimpse of her baby. Its head was the first thing she noticed, it was the largest part of its body and clearly defined, its nose and chin easily discernible. Its belly was almost as big, and she stared fixed at its heart for several moments, before her attentions drifted towards the arm and leg she could see. Dr Romano moved the wand across her belly and she counted the requisite number of limbs with relief. She felt strong surges of fear and amazement and a protectiveness which was almost primal, as she stared in awe at the flickering image on the screen which showed the child growing inside of her. Once she had reassured herself that the baby was alright and perfectly healthy, she considered the image before her once more, and found herself feeling suddenly very anxious.

“How far along am I?” Bedelia asked, feeling perplexed. The baby was bigger and more defined than she had expected from an early stage of pregnancy. 

“You are further along than I thought” Dr Romano advised, and she turned away from the screen and met Bedelia’s gaze. “From this I would say you are around fourteen weeks pregnant” she stated. Bedelia’s eyes widened in shock.

“What?” Bedelia asked breathlessly, finding herself feeling panicked once more. She had assumed she was only six or seven weeks pregnant, possibly eight, but certainly not anywhere near the second trimester, much less two weeks into it. And yet, she and Hannibal had been in Florence for four months now, so it was not beyond the realm of possibility. “But I haven’t had any symptoms” she said, confusion present in her tone. “And I haven’t gained weight” she added, breaking off as she recalled how challenging it had been to put on and remove her gown for the ball last night, despite it having fitted perfectly two weeks before. “Are you sure?” she asked, looking up at the doctor, despite already knowing the answer.

“Very sure, Signora” Dr Romano responded confidently. “Fourteen weeks” she declared. Bedelia exhaled sharply and nodded absently in response. “It is perfectly healthy, and its heart is strong” she advised. “You are slim and physically fit, Signora” she added. “It is not unusual for you to not show at this stage, but it is likely you will show soon” she explained. Bedelia nodded slowly in response and bit her lower lip, in an attempt to distract herself from the panic that was rising within her. “The placenta is fine, there are no signs of abruption or damage, and my earlier examination of your cervix revealed nothing of concern” she stated. “Bleeding during the early stages of pregnancy is normal, but not to this extent” she explained gently. Bedelia nodded in acknowledgement and tried to overcome her shock to focus completely. “But your baby is healthy and showing no signs of distress” she assured her. Bedelia smiled softly and nodded, before leaning back against the headrest once more, her eyes drifting towards the screen. Dr Romano smiled softly. “Would you like me print you off a copy?” she asked kindly.

Hannibal might find it, cautioned her mind.

“Yes” Bedelia responded, in spite of it. “Thank you” she added, her eyes fixed upon the screen as she spoke. Dr Romano nodded and made the arrangements, whilst Nurse Russo wiped the gel off of Bedelia’s still-flat belly.

Bedelia glanced down and stared at her stomach in both fear and wonder. Was that a curve at the base of her abdomen? Something she had foolishly attributed to a combination of hormones and champagne and fine food? At three and a half months pregnant, she would surely start to be showing soon. If the pregnancy progressed much further, of course.  
“Here” Dr Romano stated, prompting Bedelia to look up towards her, her gaze drafting towards the black and white image she was being presented with. 

The ultrasound image reminded Bedelia curiously of a polaroid, and she held it in her right hand and stared at it intently as Dr Romano inserted the intravenous drip. Bedelia’s gaze did not leave the image as she did so, curiosity and fear causing her heart to race as she stared at the image in her hands. How could she not have known? How was it that she did not even begin to suspect? And, more worryingly, had Hannibal?

Feeling emotionally exhausted and physically drained, Bedelia found herself lying back against the headrest and closing her eyes. The voices of the doctor and nurse who were attending her blurring into obscurity, as her eyes closed and she drifted into the comforting embrace of sleep, as she held on tightly to the image in her hand.


	9. Chapter 9

The combination of Bedelia’s emotion and physical exhaustion, the extents of which even she was unaware, caused her to sleep deeply and dreamlessly upon the examination table. The saline drip restored her physically, replacing the blood she had lost, and Nurse Russo, upon examining her, was relieved to find an improvement in her pallor, with some colour restoring itself to her cheeks. As she glanced over the patient, who was quite beautiful, her gaze befell the ultrasound image which was in her right hand. Not wishing for the image to be dropped or damage, Nurse Russo tried to gently ease the document from her charge’s grasp, but the patient startled her be gripping it tighter and stirring in her sleep.

“Shh, Signora, it’s alright” Nurse Russo soothed, letting go of the ultrasound picture immediately. “It’s alright. Go back to sleep” she encouraged.

And the patient, who needed little encouragement, remained secure in the realm of slumber.

Bedelia remained asleep throughout the nurse’s attendance and frequent checks, the medical staff having closed the door to provide her with privacy and solitude as she rested. Dr Romano hoped that Bedelia would sleep for several hours at least, to enable her to observe her for as long as possible, however, it was not to be. 

After sleeping deeply for some time, Bedelia turned her head to the side and exhaled slowly, her body relaxing against the cushioned headrest. She was about to succumb to slumber once more, when the now warm ultrasound image in her fingers recalled her to the present, and she opened her eyes wide, and sat upright with a start.

Bedelia was immediately struck by a wave of dizziness which punished her for rising too quickly. She placed her left hand instinctively upon her forehead and leaned into it, closing her eyes for several seconds as she recovered, before slowly leaning backwards and taking in the room. 

She was completely alone and felt worryingly rested and considerably restored, and a quick glance at the drip in her left arm reminded her of the reason. She felt less tired and better rested, and the aching in her lower abdomen was gone almost completely, save for a mild degree of discomfort which was of little consequence. She also quickly became aware of the fact that she was no longer bleeding, which relieved her greatly.

However, a brief glance up towards the bag of saline – which was half empty – caused her stomach to dropped. Bedelia looked down at her watch and her eyes widened in shock, her breath catching in her throat.

It was half-past twelve, and Hannibal was expecting her by one. 

Bedelia’s temporary relief was quickly replaced by panic; she valued punctuality almost as much as he did, and her lateness would certainly evoke further suspicion. And she hadn’t the energy or confidence to concoct a suitable lie.

Bedelia allowed her initial panic to overwhelm her for only a few moments before she reacted.

Turning towards her left and examining the intravenous drip she was currently hooked up to, Bedelia placed the ultrasound image in her lap and reached for the needle, which she slowly extracted, wincing as she did so. She bled slightly from the entry point of the needle, but bent her arm at the elbow to reduce it, before pushing aside the white sheet which covered her and easing her legs over the side of the table.

Bedelia felt the cold floor beneath her bare feet on stood up unsteadily, before quickly turning around and planting both hands on the table in order to steady herself. After taking in a few deep, restorative breaths, she leaned back and glanced upon the table, picking up the ultrasound image and carrying it towards the chair beside the privacy cover, where her clothing and personal effects were arranged. 

Feeling rather light-headed, Bedelia sat down upon the chair and picked up her bag, extracting her purse and sliding the ultrasound picture into a hidden section, before quickly replacing it. She then removed her phone and the card the taxi driver who drove her to the medical centre had provided, and dialled the number.

“Good afternoon, Signor” Bedelia began, her voice wavering slightly. “It’s Signora Fell, you kindly drove me to the medical centre earlier today” she explained, speaking with more confidence. Her words were met with relieved confirmations, and she felt herself calming considerably. “I was wondering if you would be able to take me home, if you are available?” she asked politely. Signor assured her that he would, and that he would be there in five minutes. Bedelia felt relief flood her. “Grazi” she replied sincerely, before hanging up the phone and returning it to her bag.

Bedelia took in a deep breath and slowly released it, before rising to her feet and considering the garments before her. She found her underwear, which Nurse Russo had laid carefully with her other belongings, and put them on tentatively, before lining them with a sanitary towel which she had stored in her bag. She then walked calmly across the room and towards the sink, where she cleaned the blood from her inner thighs and dried herself, before returning to her clothing and getting dressed as quickly as she could. Ignoring the feeling of dizziness she was currently experiencing, Bedelia dressed as quickly as she was able, putting on her skirt and heels first and then her blouse, which she hastily tucked in before reaching for her coat. She then quickly wrapped her scarf around her neck, applied a fresh layer of lipstick and held her gloves in her left hand. She was about to close her bag when she noticed the bloodied garments she had placed in a cosmetics bag for disposal, and she walked quickly towards the clinical waste bin and disposed of them, relief flooding her as she did so. She then turned on her heel and reached for the handle of the door, opening it slowly and stepping out into the well–lit corridor. She had barely taken five steps when she found herself face to face with Dr Romano.

“Signora Fell” the doctor stated, surprise present in her voice and expression. “You are leaving?” she asked. Bedelia inhaled sharply and nodded.

“Yes” Bedelia confirmed, her voice sounding more confident and assured than she felt. “I was just making my way to reception to pay your fees before-”

“That was not my concern” Dr Romano assured her, and she believed her. Bedelia held her gaze and nodded. “You removed your IV” she stated, surprise present in her tone once more, as she glanced instinctively towards Bedelia’s arm.

“It’s fine” Bedelia assured her. “I’m fine” she added, before offering the doctor a polite smile and attempting to step past her. The doctor moved in front of her and held her gaze, her eyes awash wish concern.

“How are you feeling?” she asked gently.

“Fine” Bedelia responded immediately. The doctor stared at her sceptically. “A little light-headed, but much better than I was” she elaborated. “Thank you” she added sincerely. Dr Romano nodded slowly in response.

“I was just coming to check on you” Dr Romano explained. “And give you these” she added, raising her right hand, which was holding several leaflets of varying colours and sizes. Bedelia glanced at them briefly, recognising several of the Italian words for ‘pregnancy’, ‘risk’ and ‘mother’. 

“Thank you” Bedelia replied sincerely, accepting the leaflets and placing them in her bag, whilst reminding herself to dispose of them before she returned to the apartment. Hannibal did not go through her things, but the risk of having them at all was too great. “That’s very kind of you” she added.

“Here” Dr Romano continued, handing her a small white card, which Bedelia accepted. “My card” she said gently. “You can call me, anytime, if you have any questions or any worries” she explained. “And when you are ready, I can recommend some of the most excellent obstetricians in Florence” she added. Bedelia swallowed hard and nodded.  
“Thank you” she returned. The doctor nodded.

“Let me walk you to reception, and arrange for you to be discharged” Dr Romano offered kindly, stepping beside Bedelia and leading her down the corridor. “Would you like me to call you a taxi?”

“I already have, thank you” Bedelia responded. “It should be arriving shortly” she added. Dr Romano nodded in understanding as they entered the reception area, and she gestured with one hand towards the front desk. Bedelia followed her obediently.

After several minutes of tedious paperwork, signing a name which was not hers and supplementing the modest fees with a considerable bonus, Bedelia allowed the doctor to lead her out of the building and towards the road, where her taxi was waiting.

“Thank you” Bedelia said sincerely, holding the doctor’s gaze as she spoke. “For everything you did for me” she added. Dr Romano smiled softly and nodded. “Please pass on my thanks to Nurse Russo as well” she requested.

“I will” Dr Romano assured her. “Take care of yourself, Signora Fell” she implored. “And call me.” Bedelia nodded absently in agreement and forced a small smile, before turning on the spot and walking towards the taxi, where her driver was looking at her with a combination of happiness and concern. Her eyes spoke of happiness, not grief, and he was elated for.

“Signora” he greeted warmly, as he opened the door for her and helped her inside. “All is well?” he asked hopefully, as Bedelia sat down in the familiar seat. She looked up at him and met his gaze.

“Si, Signor” she confirmed, smiling in return. “All is well” she confirmed. The taxi driver beamed in response, an acknowledgement of the secret, and closed the door gently behind her.

Bedelia put on her seatbelt and glanced down at her watch, which revealed it was almost twenty-to-one. It was a five minute drive back to the apartment, meaning she had plenty of time. She sighed in relief as the taxi began to move, taking her back into the heart of the city. Her relief was then promptly shattered by a sudden realisation.

“Signor” Bedelia asked urgently, leaning forwards. “Could we make one brief stop, please?” she asked. “I need to go to Vera Dal 1926. Do you know it?”

“Yes, I know it” the taxi driver responded slowly. “You are sure, Signora?” he asked gently. “It cannot wait?”

“No” Bedelia confirmed. “No, it cannot wait” she added. “It’ll just take a minute.”

“I can go for you, if you would like?” the taxi driver offered kindly. Bedelia smiled softly.

“No, thank you, Signor” she responded kindly. “I will be fine.”

The taxi pulled up outside the exclusive location minutes later, and Bedelia walked calmly inside, greeting the owner politely as she collected her regular order, paying in cash as always, and leaving on a word of thanks. She arrived back at the taxi two minutes later, and by the time they arrived outside the apartment it was quarter to one. Bedelia tipped the taxi driver generously and thanked him for his assistance.

“You take care of yourself, Signora” he implored, speaking with paternal kindness.

“You too” she responded kindly, opening her own door before she had a chance to, gathering her bags, and walking confidently towards the apartment. 

As she stepped into the building, Bedelia decided to forgo the stairs on this occasion and take the elevator, an ornate relic from the 1920s which still worked perfectly.

As she slowly ascended, she used the precious moments she had to calm herself, closing her eyes and focusing on her breathing, determined not to give Hannibal any cause for suspicion or concern. She needed time to figure out her next move, but the extent of her pregnancy meant that she had precious little time in order to do so before her condition became apparent. She needed to act quickly.

As the elevator pinged and the door slowly opened, Bedelia walked slowly towards the front door of the apartment, adopting as much courage as she could muster. She opened the front door with her key and stepped inside, and immediately found that her senses were heightened and her nerves on edge, a primal instinct she felt certain was a pre-warning to some attack.

The smell of cooking greeted her instantly, the tomatoes and bread and pasta soothing her considerably, as she moved cautiously into the apartment. She could hear the sound of music coming from the kitchen, which she quickly identified as Liszt’s ‘Dante Symphony II, Pergutorio’, which seemed almost startlingly appropriate. Inhaling deeply, she stood up straight and walked confidently through the apartment, the gentle clicking of her heels announcing her presence before she herself cared to.

As Bedelia stepped into the kitchen she found herself staring at Hannibal, whose back was to her, as he stirred one of several pots which was cooking. She remained perfectly still for several moments, finding herself feeling suddenly very nauseous and light-headed. Her heart began to race, beating almost painfully in her chest.

What am I doing? She thought, fear threatening to overcome her once more. I should not have come back here.

As if sensing her thoughts and her heart-beat, Hannibal turned on the spot and stared at her, his gaze meeting hers and holding it. Bedelia remained perfectly still and calm, and feigned a confidence which she did not feel, as he walked slowly towards her. Hannibal dried his hands on a tea-towel and smiled at her, the music providing a sinister backdrop to his movements. She fought a strong instinct within her to step back, to run, to flee, to escape. Instead, she remained perfectly still, her eyes not leaving his gaze, until the moment he was beside her. 

Bedelia watched as Hannibal bent towards her, placing his right hand on her hip and kissing her tenderly on the cheek. She felt breathless by his touch, a familiar sensation of electricity rushing through her body and making her feel weak at the knees. Suppressing all of her previous fears and reservations, Bedelia found that her treacherous mind and body now assured her she was safe and protected, that all was well. And for a moment she allowed herself to believe it.

Bedelia tilted her head to the side and met Hannibal’s lips in a searing kiss, prompting him to place his left hand upon her hip and draw her forward. She gasped slightly and placed her right hand on his cheek, splaying her fingers and feeling his warm skin beneath her own. He tasted of wine and something exotic and she allowed herself to become lost in the scent, which was precisely what Hannibal was doing also; for Bedelia’s scent was most interesting, and notably different. The normal components of her natural scent were all present, but there was something else there, too, something he had been aware of for some time. She smelled sweeter to him, somehow, and even more alluring than before, and it was becoming stronger – he could taste it on her now. It had started off as a small change within her body, which he immediately attributed to being hormonal, which was understandable given her age, and would explain the mild changes in her behaviour, as well as her collapse the night before. He suspected Bedelia also suspected that she was premenopausal, which explained her aversion to discussing her symptoms with him and her assurance that she was ‘fine’. He hoped she would discuss it with him, they had always spoken so openly to each other before. She had a scientific mind, so she knew it was nothing to be embarrassed or concerned about, as did he; especially if it made her taste like this.

“Hello, Bedelia” Hannibal greeted, his voice low and heady, as he savoured the taste of her upon his lips. Bedelia held his gaze with confidence and responded rather breathlessly.

“Hello, Hannibal.”


	10. Chapter 10

Bedelia held Hannibal’s gaze for several moments, forcing herself to adopt a confidence countenance which she certainly did not feel, in the vain hope that Hannibal would believe it. Though, as ever, he was unreadable.

“I ordered the wine and truffles” Bedelia said gently, raising the bag slightly in her left hand. Hannibal nodded in response, his gaze not leaving hers.

“You did” he confirmed, the warm, sensual timbre in his voice causing warmth to pool at the base of her abdomen, which was still feeling rather tender. 

Bedelia was drawn out of her stupor by the feeling of Hannibal’s hand on the handle of the bag, and she relinquished her hold willingly.

“Thank you” Hannibal said gently, before placing the bag on the island. “Your timing is perfect, lunch is now ready” he announced, as he turned back towards her. “I hope you’re hungry” he remarked. Bedelia forced a smile. She was starting to feel rather anxious once more, and doubted she would be able to eat, despite the delicious aromas of the kitchen.  
“Yes” Bedelia lied, placing her bag on the island and removing her gloves and scarf.

Hannibal walked slowly towards her as she undid her belt and the buttons of her coat. She felt him walk slowly around her, his scent and proximity causing her heart to race, as he came to a halt behind her. 

“Allow me” Hannibal said chivalrously. 

Bedelia felt Hannibal’s hands upon her shoulders, as he caught the coat as she shrugged it off, drawing it slowly down her arms. She tilted her head to the side slightly and met his gaze, feeling the weight of his stare upon her.

“Thank you” Bedelia responded, smoothing down her blouse as Hannibal folded her coat over his arm.

As Bedelia adjusted her cuffs, Hannibal’s keen senses detected a faint scent of blood, and his eyes drifted down to its origin. On the inside of Bedelia’s left sleeve, in the centre of the elbow, was a small drop of fresh blood which, although small, shone brightly against the shirt. His curious eyes narrowed and drifted back towards Bedelia, who walked slowly up to the island and poured herself a glass of water. Hannibal watched as she began by sipping it slowly, before consuming half of the contents within seconds. Although her pallor had improved, she was clearly dehydrated, and his curiosity was piqued. The combination the tell-tale bloodstain upon her blouse, and the most revealing aroma of scents upon her person, including bleach, disinfectant, and an aroma belonging distinctly to hospitals, indicated that she had recently attended a doctor’s appointment. This information, combined with the notable change in her own natural scent, further aroused Hannibal’s suspicions. He had not believed her when she told him she had slipped on water the night before, and his suspicions appeared to be further supported by her action of seeking out medical advice. Bedelia was intelligent, medically trained and infinitely sensible; she would not have sought medical advice unless she thought it was absolutely necessary, which evidence of a recent injection or possibly even a blood test attested to. His previous suspicions that Bedelia could be perimenopausal now seemed almost certainly true, and in a way he felt relieved by the knowledge. For a brief moment he had feared something was wrong with her.

Hannibal carefully laid Bedelia’s coat down upon a nearby chair and looked up at her, prompting her to lower the now almost empty glass from her lips and look up at him.  
“I made your favourite linguine” Hannibal said casually, as he picked up the glass carafe from the island, which was filled with cold mineral water, ice and lemon wedges. “King prawns, garlic, chilli” he added, as he poured Bedelia another glass, feeling her gaze upon him. He met her eyes and found her watching him with amusement.  
“King prawn linguine, Hannibal?” Bedelia asked, sounding perplexed. “Compared to your sophisticated palette I’d image you view that as one above a microwave meal” she remarked, smiling as she cradled the glass in her hands. Hannibal smirked.

“Not at all” Hannibal assured her, looking up and meeting his gaze. “At least two” he added. Bedelia smiled and took another sip, and Hannibal tilted his head to side as he watched her. She was thirsty. “I’ve also placed bath mats in all of the bathrooms” he added, prompting her to stare at him for a moment. “To prevent any further accidents” he explained, watching her closely as he spoke. Bedelia’s eyes adopted a glazed expression, but she quickly recovered, exhaling slowly and offering him a small smile.  
“It’s rather embarrassing” Bedelia responded calmly.

“It shouldn’t be” Hannibal assured her, as he placed the carafe back down upon the island. “The main thing is that you’re alright” he added, making his way towards her once more. Bedelia lowered her glass slowly and held his gaze. “How is your head?” he asked, brushing her hair aside to examine it. The cut was already beginning to heal, but even Bedelia’s expert use of make-up could not conceal the dark purple bruise which was forming.

“Not nearly as bruised as my ego” Bedelia assured him, placing her hand over his and gently encouraging it away from her forehead. “I’m fine, Hannibal.”

“Are you?” he returned, his eyes fixing hers with an imploring gaze. Bedelia hesitated for a moment.

“Yes” she responded confidently. Hannibal considered her for a moment before nodding slowly in response. 

“If you’d like to take a seat, I’ll bring lunch to you in a few minutes” Hannibal advised. 

Feeling suddenly hot and rather shaken beneath the intensity of Hannibal’s gaze, Bedelia nodded in response and was about to leave, when she remembered the rather telling reading material in her bag. She lifted it off the island in a single, casual motion before turning on her heel and heading towards the dining room, feeling his eyes burning into her with each step she took. 

Bedelia sat down at her usual place at the table, which Hannibal had already laid meticulously, as though for a banquet. She stared longingly at the carafe of chateau neuf du pape in the centre of the table before forcing herself to look away. After placing her bag on the ground by her feet she lifted her glass and drew it to her lips, and was not surprised to notice a slight tremor. Ignoring it, Bedelia took a few comforting sips of ice cold water, before placing the glass back on the table and sitting up straight in her seat.

Hannibal arrived a minute or so later, carrying two pasta bowls filled with the linguine, which smelt divine. Although she was aware of being considerably hungry, Bedelia was feeling unsettled, anxious and suddenly rather nauseous, and doubted she would be able to eat much. 

“Parmesan?” Hannibal asked, as he laid her dish in front of her. Bedelia nodded instinctively in response.

“Yes please” she requested, watching as he dusted the dish with the perfect amount. She inhaled deeply and took in the rich scents. It smelt utterly divine. “This looks exquisite, Hannibal” she commended, as Hannibal took up his own seat. “Thank you” she added sincerely, meeting his gaze as she spoke. This was one of her favourite dishes, and it was clear that was why he had prepared it.

“You are welcome” Hannibal returned, as he reached for the carafe of wine. “Would you like some wine?” he asked politely. Bedelia felt her stomach tighten, which she pointedly ignored, before looking up and meeting his gaze.

“No, thank you” Bedelia responded calmly. “My head is still rather sore, and I’m going to take some painkillers after lunch” she explained. Hannibal nodded in understanding and poured himself a glass wordlessly, as Bedelia lifted up her cutlery and considered the dish before her.

Despite feeling confident she would not be able to manage more than a few mouthfuls, the delicious, comforting taste of her favourite dish stoked the flames of her hunger, and she immediately found herself feeling quite famished. Her anxiety was temporarily forgotten, and Bedelia ate the pasta with barely-contained enthusiasm, and Hannibal was impressed by her progress as he glanced up at her. By the time he had eaten half of his own, her dish was empty, and she was dabbing the side of her mouth with her silk napkin.  
“Would you like some more?” Hannibal asked politely, relieved to find that she was eating. Bedelia folded her napkin and shook her head.

“That was perfect, thank you” she returned, meeting his gaze as she spoke. She felt sated and sleepy. Hannibal nodded in response.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, as Bedelia reached for her glass of water. She looked up at him immediately.

“I’m fine, Hannibal” she assured him, before drawing the glass to her lips. Hannibal considered her response for a moment before nodding. 

“I was going to go to the Cappone Library this afternoon to obtain some books I need for my research” Hannibal advised, prompting Bedelia to look up at him once more. “I’ve made significant progress this morning, but the additional texts held at the library would be beneficial” he advised. Bedelia nodded in agreement. She was hoping he would not ask her to accompany him. “Provided you are feeling well enough for me to go, of course” he added, his tone almost casual, and yet not quite. Something about it intrigued Bedelia. Was that concern underlying his trademark confidence?

“Of course” Bedelia responded with ease. “I’m sure I can amuse myself for one afternoon” she added lightly. 

“I’m sure you can” Hannibal responded, as he took a sip of his wine. 

Bedelia found her heart beginning to race in her chest, and suddenly her skirt felt entirely too tight. It was only then that she realised her stomach was no longer sore or tender; in fact, since eating, she felt considerably better. There was only the faint nausea arising from her anxiety which remained. 

Bedelia and Hannibal spent the next few minutes discussing his findings from his morning’s research, before Hannibal gathered the dishes and carried them through to the kitchen. Bedelia tidied the table and left Hannibal to it, the kitchen being very much his domain; the only time she would go in there with him would be if they were drinking wine and talking whilst he cooked. He seemed to prefer solitude for the clean-up. Which made sense, given his particular predilections. 

Ignoring the rising feeling of nausea which suddenly grew within her and caused her to feel quite hot, Bedelia poured the remainder of the carafe of ice and water into her glass, before carrying it along with the empty carafe into the kitchen. Each step she took made her even more aware of how tired and heavy she felt, and she desperately craved sleep.  
By the time Bedelia entered the kitchen, Hannibal was putting away the last of the freshly-washed dishes, and drying his hand on a nearby tea towel. She carried the carafe over to the sink and refilled it, forgoing ice and lemon in favour of the gloriously cool liquid. She was very, very thirsty. Hannibal watched her curiously and then folded the tea towel and put it away.

“I should be back in an hour to an hour and a half” Hannibal advised. Bedelia turned towards him, carafe in one hand, water glass in the other. “Is there anything you need?” he asked gently.

“No” Bedelia responded quietly. “Thank you” she added a moment later. Hannibal nodded in response and walked towards her, kissing her tenderly on the cheek. She felt warmth radiate throughout her body, and her breath caught in her throat.

“I’ll be back soon” he assured her, his lips and his breath leaving his skin, as he stepped away from her and walked through the kitchen. 

Bedelia suddenly felt panicked and uncomfortably warm, the weight of her secret almost too much to bear. She felt a sudden, almost desperate, desire to tell him.

“Hannibal” Bedelia said gently, an almost indiscernible hint of panic underlying her tone. Hannibal turned towards her immediately and she met his gaze, and felt her resolve shatter completely. “We need some more lemons” she said quickly. 

Hannibal stared at her for a moment, before nodding in response.

“Lemons you shall have” he said with a small smile, which Bedelia returned weakly. “Goodbye, Bedelia” he added, before turning on the spot and walking through the apartment.  
It was only when Bedelia heard the door close behind him with its familiar click that she released the breath she had been holding.

Stupid, she internally scolded herself. Stupid.

She placed her glass and the carafe on the counter, which she then gripped in order to steady herself. Her limbs suddenly felt heavy, her body warm, and her mind awash with fear and panic. She felt vulnerable and afraid and she did not like it, it was most unlike her. Even in this current situation, in this current predicament, she did not need Hannibal or any man to assist her, nor did she require his input.

Though she desperately wanted it.

Forcing the offensive notion aside, Bedelia sighed heavily and closed her eyes, as she attempted to supress her rising feeling of anxiety. She had never felt as scared, weak and helpless as she had done that morning, so completely out of control and reliant on other people, and she vowed that she would never do so ever again. Though, admittedly, she had found herself feeling more nervous than was her custom recently, due to Hannibal’s recklessness and apparent determination not to remain below the radar. It was only last night that she had accused him of being more concerned with making appearances than keeping them, and this latest development made the risk he was taking was even more dangerous. It was not just their lives he was risking, but their child’s.

Bedelia opened her eyes immediately, placing her right hand instinctively upon her belly, which felt firm and sated following her heavy lunch. The anxieties she had been trying to rationalise or altogether suppress had been brought to the surface and intensified by the knowledge that she was carrying Hannibal Lecter’s child. Their child. 

Her child.

As she considered the child growing inside her, whose existence defied countless sets of physical and biological odds, she found herself wondering once again how Hannibal would react to the news that he was going to become a father. Despite having been his psychiatrist for several years, Hannibal’s mind was as much a fortress now as it had been then, and was something which he only allowed very few people the briefest of glimpses into – always how much he wanted, under the circumstances he dictated, and never more than he intended. She could no more predict his actions or responses to something than she could the full name of a stranger she encountered on the street. Although her experience with Hannibal and her professional knowledge had allowed her some insight into him, some understanding of his character, he had always been a most challenging subject. She could sometimes navigate the space between the truths and the lies, but never fully, and certainly not completely. And this was new territory altogether.

She found herself remembering one of their sessions where he had informed her that he had never considered having a child, but that he had experienced paternal feelings over Abigail Hobbs. Whilst this insight had intrigued her, it was hardly encouraging, especially considering he slit the young girl’s throat just over four months ago, in his own kitchen. Would he slit her throat when he found out about her pregnancy? Would he end both her and their child’s life now? Or wait until she was further along, perhaps? Or would he wait until after the baby was born? She could imagine Hannibal, who was curious to a dangerous extent, allowing her to carry their baby to term and even deliver it. She pictured it clearly, herself lying in bed beneath layers of silk, red-faced and exhausted, as he cradled their tiny infant in his arms, only glimpses of a hand or a foot or a chubby cheek visible from beneath the blankets. She imagined him holding the child in a confident and secure embrace, before producing a knife and holding it up to the blankets, watching her horrified response as she pushed herself up in bed but was too weak and powerless to stop him.

“This child is not a suitable substitute for therapy either” he would proclaim. Bedelia heard herself screaming as the white blankets became saturated with blood.

Bedelia opened her eyes wide and leaned forward, gripping the counter as she was violently sick into the sink, her body purging itself of the food she had so recently consumed. Her eyes stung and she exhaled breathlessly, before turning on the tap and washing her mouth with fresh water, and washing away the evidence of her sickness.

Holding the edge of the sink with trembling hands, Bedelia looked up and exhaled, blinking wearily as she considered the situation. In a way, what frightened her most was the uncertainty in terms of Hannibal’s reaction. There was a fear, a menacing nature to it, the ever-present threat he would pose to herself and their baby – her baby – should he learn of its existence.

She could leave. She could leave right now, and be long gone by the time he returned. But her mind would not allow her to consider this for more than a few moments. Leaving without reason when he was already beginning to suspect something was not right would only elevate his curiosity, and a curious Hannibal Lecter was a dangerous one. She had no doubt he would hunt her down, and he would find her – find them. And who knew what he would do, how he would punish her not simply for leaving him, but from concealing her pregnancy from him and taking their child too. And even if he didn’t find her straight away, she would be in a state of near constant terror that he would. He had slaughtered people for far less, and she could not live like that. And she would not allow her baby to either. But was it more dangerous to leave, or to remain?

She could call in an anonymous tip about the location of the notorious murder to the FBI, but Hannibal was a clever man, and the same dangers she considered as existing if she simply left would still apply. Except he would be even angrier and keen for vengeance. And, though she did not wish to admit it to herself, she could not betray him in that way. Despite his nature, Hannibal was intelligent and exciting and she found his company stimulating and invigorating in a way she had never experienced with another person before. Sometimes she frightened herself by considering that they were kindred spirits; other times she would console herself by claiming she was simply his psychologist. Though in truth, she knew she was both.

Feeling tired and light-headed, Bedelia forgot her glass of water and turned on the spot, as she walked mechanically across the kitchen and through the apartment towards her bedroom. She was too tired and too anxious to come up with a solution at the moment, what she needed was to rest, allow her mind and body to recover, and then consider her options with fresh eyes.

Though you may not be required to make a decision at all, her treacherous mind reminded her. Given your age and the extent of your bleeding, there is a very good chance you will miscarry. 

Forcing aside this notion, which made her feel a deeper fear and profound sadness which she was reluctant to acknowledge, Bedelia kicked off her heels and walked slowly towards the bed, which looked comfortable and inviting. She lay down on her left side and placed her right hand subconsciously on her abdomen, as her eyes slowly drifted shut, the image of the sonogram returning to the forefront of her mind just as she surrendered herself into a deep slumber.


	11. Chapter 11

Bedelia slept deeply from the moment she closed her eyes, her exhausted mind and body falling effortlessly into slumber, her right hand resting lightly upon her abdomen.  
When Hannibal returned to the apartment an hour and a half later, he was struck by the silence the moment he closed the door behind himself. He stood perfectly still for a moment and listened, his keen sense of hearing not detecting a single sound from within. 

With a stack of books cradled between her left arm and his side, and his right hand holding the bag containing the meat for his impromptu dinner this evening, Hannibal walked calmly and quietly through the apartment, placing the books in his study and then heading into the kitchen. 

After removing the meat from the paper carrier bag and placing it in the fridge to ensure it would not spoil, Hannibal turned his attentions to the sink, next to which were the full water glass and carafe which Bedelia had filled shortly before he departed. As he stepped closer to the sink he sniffed slightly, his nostrils flaring instinctively at the light scent of vomit, which was emanating from the sink. Upon examination the sink itself was clean and clear of any such debris, but it was quite apparent that someone had recently been sick in it. 

Hannibal’s innate confidence and calmness was compromised by a sudden and most untimely wave of concern at this discovery, which he suppressed almost immediately. He then lifted the glass of water from the counter and carried it across the kitchen, as he began his search for Bedelia.

Walking to the kitchen had established that Bedelia was not in the main living rooms of the apartment, which was conveniently open plan. She was not in his study or the kitchen either, which narrowed his search radius. Hannibal therefore decided to check the main bedroom first, which seemed to be the most likely option, especially if she was feeling unwell.

Hannibal pushed open the half-closed door, and his gaze immediately befell the sight of Bedelia, who was fast asleep with her back to him, her slumbering form laying peacefully on top of the bedsheets. She was fully dressed, minus her shoes, which she had evidently discarded moments before putting herself to bed.

Hannibal walked noiselessly towards her, his eyes drifting curiously across her sleeping form, her right shoulder rising and falling slightly as she breathed. From the nature of her breathing it was clear that Bedelia was sleeping quite deeply, though he was still mindful of disturbing her. 

After placing her water glass down gently upon the bedside table, Hannibal leaned over Bedelia, his gaze drifting across her face. Her expression was always the same when she slept, calm and unreadable, a mask of imperceptibility. He gently stroked a stray lock of hair from her cheek, before placing his right hand upon her forehead, which soon revealed that she did not have a temperature. If anything, she was rather cool.

Hannibal walked down to the bottom of the bed and picked up the fur runner, which the petite Bedelia’s feet did not come close to touching. He unfolded it in a single motion and gently draped it across her, ensuring she was fully covered, and would remain warm. He then bent towards her once more, the smell of her honeysuckle shampoo and Dior perfume melding with her natural scent, which was intoxicating. He pressed a gentle kiss upon her cheek, savouring the taste of her, which was utterly bewitching. She exhaled deeply and stirred slightly, prompting Hannibal to place his hand gently upon her forearm and hushing her, which soothed her back to sleep. 

Not wishing to risk waking her, and keen to begin his work in the kitchen, Hannibal reluctantly forced his attentions away from Bedelia, standing up once more and turning towards the door. He picked up her shoes and arranged them neatly against the side of the bed, side by side, in a place where she was sure to find them. He then left the room as quietly as he had entered it and closed the door behind him, before heading back towards the kitchen. He had work to do.

Bedelia woke almost an hour later, feeling comfortable and well-rested, and incredibly thirsty. She stretched her legs and arched her back slightly, feeling the warmth of the fur runner embrace her shifting body, prompting her to open her eyes immediately. She hadn’t used the fur runner, she had laid down upon the bed and fallen to sleep immediately.  
Hannibal was here, she realised.

Sitting up slowly, Bedelia lowered the fur runner and stared down upon herself, finding nothing different except the crease of her blouse which had become disturbed during her sleep. She was relieved to find that there were no traces of blood on the bedding or upon her legs, and she did not feel as though she was bleeding, or had been. Exhaling in relief, Bedelia ran her hand through her hair and turned instinctively towards the door, which was closed. She then caught sight of the glass of water out of the corner of her eye, and she reached for it instinctively.

As she drew the cool liquid towards her lips, she hesitated for a moment, withdrawing the glass and eyeing it suspiciously. After a few moments’ consideration Bedelia sighed at her paranoia, before taking several sips of the refreshing water. Her sips turned into mouthfuls, and before she realised it she had finished the glass, and was exhaling breathlessly, her thirst finally sated. 

Bedelia then pushed the fur runner off her body and eased her legs off the bed, planting her feet upon the ground and slowly rising. She felt slightly dizzy as she stood, but recovered almost immediately, and was relieved to find that she was feeling fine. Well, almost fine. There was a slight, almost imperceptible ache in her lower belly, like the onset of menstrual cramps, but it was barely noticeable. Placing her hand on her belly and splaying her fingers instinctively, Bedelia felt the skin beneath her touch become warm, and the motion was incredibly comforting. She was lost in her reverie for several moments, until she felt a sudden wave of fear which caused her hand to tremble. She lowered it immediately and turned back towards the bed, tidying the runner and laying it along the bottom of the bed where it belonged, before heading into the bathroom.

Bedelia made a beeline for the toilet and lifted up her skirt, lowering her underwear cautiously as she sat down. She was relieved to find that there was only some slight spotting, and no evidence of recent or significant bleeding. She allowed herself to bask in her relief, before finding it quickly descending into fear bordering panic, and she restored her clothes to order quickly with trembling hands. Tucking in her silk blouse and straightening her skirt, Bedelia returned to the bedroom and made her way towards her dressing table, where she spent a couple of minutes refreshing her make-up, which did wonders for her pallor. Although some colour had returned to her cheeks she was still rather pale, but she appeared to be recovering, physically at least. And she was starting to feel rather hungry once more.

Bedelia checked her watch and was startled to find it was just after four o’clock; she had slept soundly for over two years. If this became a regular occurrence, Hannibal’s suspicions would certainly be aroused. It was possible – probable – that they already were; so it would be necessary for her to reduce them, if not remove them entirely.

Swallowing hard, Bedelia rose slowly to her feet and walked across the bedroom, quickly finding her shoes where the meticulous Hannibal had left them and stepping into them. She then smoothed her outfit down once more before heading towards the door. Her hand was resting upon the handle, which she turned a fraction, before hesitating.

Although she had not gained a discernible amount of weight, she remembered that the dress she had worn the night before had felt rather tight. And, the more she thought about it, so had a few other garments she had recently purchased; she had attributed their ill-fittingness to a combination of the differences in Italian and American sizes and her fondness for Italian food, which was served with almost scandalous decadence at the various events she and Hannibal had attended. So she had thought nothing of it, but she knew now that she should had, and not just because of her condition, but because of Hannibal.

If she had gained weight, he would most certainly have noticed.

Placing her right hand over the abdomen, Bedelia was relieved to find that there did not appear to be a change in her figure that her skirt could not conceal. There was a slight roundness to the base of her belly, which could easily be attributable to a large lunch, as opposed to the truth. She had only noticed it that day, and felt confident she would have noticed it before had it been apparent. But then again, she had also been confident she was finely attuned with her body, a body which had allowed itself to become pregnant and had carried the child for fourteen weeks before providing her with any indication of its existence. 

After a few moments’ consideration, Bedelia felt satisfied that the changes to her weight were subtle and excusable, and would not evoke suspicion. The skirt she was wearing was particularly flattering, and the silk blouse loose, covering the majority of her sins. Bedelia inhaled deeply and let out a long, slow breath, before opening the bedroom door and walking confidently across the apartment.

The scent of garlic and onions made itself known to her immediately, as did the sounds of classical music and movement in the kitchen. Bedelia found herself walking slowly towards the kitchen, her heels gently clicking upon the polished floor, her confidence wavering with each step. If Hannibal suspected the truth – if he knew – she would soon be aware. 

Adopting a confident demeanour which she did not feel, Bedelia stepped into the kitchen, and found herself standing directly opposite Hannibal. He was standing at the island, a meat cleaver in his hand, his attentions focused on cutting a large section of raw meat. The scent of the bloodied flesh turned Bedelia’s stomach, and for a moment she feared she was about to be sick. The heat in the kitchen did little to improve her nausea, and it was only the sound of Hannibal’s voice which provided her with a distraction which prompted her quick recovery. 

“Good afternoon, Bedelia” Hannibal remarked, as the knife struck the wooden chopping board, which was now stained by the bloodied meat. Bedelia decided not to consider its origin. “Did you sleep well?” he asked, as she looked up and met his gaze. He stopped chopping for a moment and stood tall, confident and poised as he awaited her answer.

“I did, thank you” Bedelia confirmed, her eyes drifting down towards the meat once more. Bedelia saw suspicion present in her eyes, and he smirked in amusement.

“Prime Italian beef” Hannibal replied, in response to her unspoken question. “I obtained it this afternoon from a local butcher” he advised. Bedelia nodded absently and made her way closer to the island, her legs feeling heavier with each step. As she stepped beneath the ceiling lights, she felt Hannibal’s gaze upon her. “You’re flushed” he observed, reaching for the knife once more. She looked up and met his gaze without hesitation.

“I’ve just woken up, Hannibal” Bedelia responded, the remnants of sleep present in her voice. “And it’s rather hot in here” she observed. Hannibal nodded in agreement, before laying the knife down upon the chopping board and opening the windows above the sink. Bedelia felt the cool, fresh breeze almost immediately. “Thank you” she added quietly. Hannibal smiled politely in acknowledgement and lifted the knife once more, with an ease and effortlessness which would never fail to unsettle her.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked politely, breaking the silence. 

“No, thank you” Bedelia responded. Hannibal considered her for a moment before nodding. “How was your afternoon?” she asked, desperate for a distraction.

“Very productive” Hannibal responded, as he began to cut the meat once more. The smell and the sound of the knife cutting through the flesh and striking the wooden board beneath turned Bedelia’s stomach, and it took a considerable effort to focus on his words, and nothing else. “I got everything I needed” he informed her, before bringing the cleaver down again with a chilling thud, “and something I did not” he added. Bedelia looked up at him curiously.

“What do you mean?” she asked calmly. A small smirk played in the corner of Hannibal’s mouth, but quickly disappeared, and all remnants of it were gone by the time he looked up and met her gaze.

“I ran into a man named Anthony Dimmond” Hannibal replied simply. “He is a British academic, specialising in medieval history” he advised. “I met him in Paris when we were using our previous aliases” he informed her.

Bedelia’s mouth went dry and she felt her stomach tighten. She and Hannibal had flown from the states to Paris, where they had spent a couple of weeks in hiding whilst he obtained their new identities. 

“Did he recognise you?” Bedelia asked, her voice lowering as she spoke.

“Oh yes” Hannibal responded conversationally, cutting the meat once more. Bedelia inhaled sharply. She wished he would stop. “He also knew Dr Fell” he added, prompting her eyes to widen. “The previous Dr Fell, that is” he added, as though clarification were required, as he looked up and met her gaze. Bedelia saw amusement present in his eyes, and mischievous twinkle, which reminded her of a child caught doing something they knew they shouldn’t. 

“Hannibal” she breathed, warning present in her tone and her eyes. This was not amusing. “How well did he know Dr Fell?” she asked cautiously. In academic circles it was quite possible to know a person by reputation and be very familiar with their work, but walk past them in the street and never know it.

“Dr Fell was Mr Dimmond’s supervisor when he undertook his doctorate” Hannibal responded. Bedelia felt her stomach drop and her eyes widened. “I’d imagine they knew each other very well indeed” he added. 

Bedelia swallowed hard and attempted to suppress her rising feelings of panic. This was the last thing they needed, especially now. 

“What are you going to do?” she asked, her voice calm and controlled, despite her hesitation at posing such a question. Hannibal placed his hand on the meat and looked back down towards it, before raising his knife once more, as though considering his response. But Bedelia already realised that that would not be necessary. They both knew the answer.

“I thought we’d have him for dinner.”


	12. Chapter 12

Bedelia met Hannibal’s gaze and held it, her expression unreadable. She was grateful that she managed to maintain her composure, for her nerves were quickly abandoning her, and she felt certain that Hannibal would be able to hear her racing heart.

“He’s coming over at seven” Hannibal announced casually. Bedelia’s eyes darkened.

Why would he bring that man here? Why not simply… neutralise the threat elsewhere?

Because Hannibal was a showman, she realised. And his dinner table was his ring.

Which begged the question, what did that make her? The ticket collector?

Bedelia’s jaw set and she lowered her gaze from Hannibal’s. The glass of wine in her hand suddenly felt impossibly heavy, as though it were made from lead.

“I see” Bedelia responded slowly, an iron edge in her voice which attracted Hannibal’s attentions straight away. He stared at her with an unreadable expression.

“Do you?” he asked, his voice low and assured, his confidence unwavering. Bedelia looked up and held his gaze with equal conviction.

“Yes” she responded, her tone resigned to the point of annoyance. Hannibal stared at her, confusion marring his features, and then disappearing as quickly as it came. He knew she disapproved of his measures, but this one was necessary. They all were, really, but this one even more so. But she seemed even more annoyed in this instance, angry, even. 

And Hannibal found himself wondering why.

“I don’t see that I have a choice” Hannibal said calmly. Bedelia felt her breath catch in her throat.

“We all have choices, Hannibal” she replied, her intelligent eyes holding his gaze.

Bedelia caught sight of something within his expression that was familiar: amusement. Hannibal Lecter found this amusing. Her already tender stomach lurched, and she fought down a strong wave of nausea. 

Hannibal watched Bedelia curiously, her response to his announcement most intriguing. He decided to investigate further. He drew a knife from the block, the stainless steel blade striking the metal interior, and creating a sound which caused Bedelia’s brave eyes to flicker just slightly. She looked up at him and he saw fury.

“Would you like to help me prepare dinner?” Hannibal asked with perfect sincerity, as he offered her the knife.

The faint trace of amusement which had been a glint in his eye now overcame his features completely, and he held her gaze with intrigue, as though daring her to accept his challenge, and see how far she would go. But Bedelia was not in the mood for games, nor was she minded to indulge Hannibal in one of his frequent over-indulgences. 

“No” Bedelia responded, her tone firm and icy, as she held Hannibal’s gaze. “Your amusement and your levity at this situation are in very poor taste, Hannibal” she chided. The anger in her voice and eyes caused Hannibal’s heart to race.

“I can assure you that it won’t be” Hannibal responded confidently, as he placed the knife back into the block without looking, his gaze holding Bedelia’s, whose resolve did not waver. “The particular dish that I have in mind will be of the most exquisite taste” he added. 

Bedelia clenched her jaw and stared at him. It was clear he was goading her, trying to provoke a response. She was determined not to let him.

“Perhaps you would care to try?” Hannibal asked, his tone polite and perfectly civil, a complete contrast to the darkness of his suggestion. 

Bedelia’s eyes became stony and she stared at him with barely concealed contempt. And she was holding the wine glass so tightly she feared it would shatter in her hand. Hannibal saw her knuckles whiten and his eyes glistened. Bedelia watched as he lifted the meat cleaver once more, then drove it down into the meat in front of him with such force that she could feel tremors in the floor beneath her feet.

“Would you like to observe” Hannibal began, before striking the meat once again, his eyes drifting up to meet her gaze as the blade remained between the bleeding flesh, “or participate?” he asked, removing the knife from the meat and offering it to her by the handle. 

Bedelia’s gaze did not leave Hannibal’s, but the light danced upon the silver blade and shone in her eyes, and the scent of blood was so heavy in the air that she could almost taste it. For a moment she thought she was going to be sick again, but she swallowed hard and stared at him with conviction.

“Neither” Bedelia responded, her voice calm but firm, her eyes as cold as marble. “I’m going to have a bath and get ready for dinner” she informed him, placing her untouched glass of wine upon the island and staring at him, before turning on the spot and walking confidently out of the room.

Hannibal lowered the knife and watched her, tilting his head to the side slightly and staring at her with unblinking eyes until she disappeared from his sight. He was glad to find that, even now, after having known her for six years with an ever-increasing and evolving level of intimacy, she was still as unpredictable and unreadable as the day they first met. She was his blind spot, and a never-ending puzzle which provided more pieces each time it revealed an answer. He smiled to himself and stared at the space before him which she had once occupied, her scent still strong in the room, clear to him above the smell of the blood. His heart began to race in his chest, and he inhaled deeply, as pure adrenaline coursed through his veins. Bedelia would never know that she had a more profound and sustained affect upon him than any drug, any indulgence, or even any kill. 

Bedelia walked through the apartment and towards the bedroom, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. She leaned against it and breathed a sigh of relief, her heart racing in her chest and her legs feeling incredibly unsteady. She was trembling.

Although she had no illusions as to who Hannibal was and what he was capable of, the fact that he could be so brazen and reckless deeply unsettled her. In a way it was this which affected her more than the cruelty. 

And his complete disregard for human life had never concerned her as greatly as it did right now. As she stood still and leaned against the doorway, her heart beating almost painfully in her chest, she found herself suddenly realising why.

It was because she herself had never cared for a human life as much as she did for the one which was growing inside her.

Bedelia’s breath caught in her throat and she swallowed hard, blinking back the tears which were burning in her eyes. She knew if they started to fall she would not be able to stop.

Despite the fact that she was under no illusions as to who Hannibal was and the shockingly low value he placed on some human lives, she had never been so quite so profoundly worried – terrified, even – of it until she herself beheld a life which she was desperate to protect at all costs. She hadn’t even been as concerned about conserving her own life, indeed, in agreeing to accompany Hannibal she had treated her own life with a recklessness which could justifiably be mistaken with ambivalence. But this life, the one which they of all people had created, the one which until a few hours ago she thought she had lost, elicited such strong feelings of protection and care in her that she was frightened by it. She hadn’t realised herself capable of such a profound feeling of love; it was both exhilarating and overwhelming, and caused her to feel more deeply empowered than she had ever felt in her life. And just as vulnerable, weak and utterly terrified.

As Bedelia leaned against the door she found herself considering, not for the first time that day, that the best thing for their baby – her baby – would be if they left. For a moment she completely pushed aside the dangers associated with such drastic action, and the painfully obvious course of action which Hannibal would take. Or would he? Perhaps he would find the life of his child to be as inconsequential as that of the man he had invited to dinner that very night. And yet, he was capable of warmth, of kindness and affection, and possibly even of love. She had seen the pain and fear in his eyes when he had found her collapsed in the bathroom. He had cradled her with strength and care, and tended to her injury with a gentleness which caused her heart to flutter. Was it possible for someone who was capable of such extreme and violent actions was also capable of acts of such pure affection and sincerity, and even of love? 

The knowledge of her pregnancy had prompted her to analyse her thoughts and conclusions on Hannibal more deeply and more profoundly than she had ever done before, and she found herself utterly devoid of answers to any of the questions she sought. 

But perhaps she had already come up with her own solution.

After calming herself down enough to think clearly, Bedelia bathed luxuriously for almost an hour, in a desperate attempt to calm her mind and her body, which was the only protection she could afford her baby at the moment. Her pregnancy was already high-risk, and the stress of her current situation with Hannibal increased that exponentially. And so, instead of allowing herself to wallow in fear and feelings of helplessness, she decided to take action, and begin her preservation of self, for the sole benefit of her baby.

Following a bath which was far more soothing and much less eventful than its predecessor, Bedelia wrapped herself in her favourite pink and white floral silk kimono and walked barefoot across the apartment and back towards her bedroom. She pointedly ignored the kitchen, not even glancing in its direction, even when the tantalising scents of herbs and spices encouraged her most strongly to do so. Bedelia swallowed hard and held her breath before retreating to the sanctity of her bedroom.

Bedelia eased herself down onto the chair in front of her dressing table and stared at her reflection. Although her pallor had improved with the return of colour to her cheeks, she was still looking paler than usual, which was highlighted by the ever-increasing darkness of the bruise which was forming on her forehead. Bedelia covered her forehead with her damp hair and sighed lightly, before picking up her hairdryer and switching it on. When entering battle, Bedelia found that her mind was by far the strongest tool she had, but her wardrobe also formed an essential part of her armour. And she would need to be well-equipped tonight.

As, indeed, she was.

After curling her hair and applying her make-up in a precise and expert fashion, Bedelia selected her favourite (and most daring) red backless evening dress. Although it was slightly snugger around her stomach than it had been when she purchased it a month ago, it still fit her comfortably, and did not betray her condition. 

It was also a firm favourite of Hannibal’s, whose eyes had adopted a most satisfactory glaze in a manner which she would describe as lustful in anyone but him. In fact, she remembered the feeling of his hands upon her body, caressing her with a combination of desire and urgency, when he had almost torn the dress from her body the last time she had worn it. It wasn’t simply the physical response that the dress evoked that prompted her to resort to such a tactic, but the fact that Hannibal was capable of coming so completely undone, and departing almost entirely from the carefully-crafted, meticulous and neat individual that he was. He had almost torn off his person suit with her dress that night. In truth, that was one of the reasons she had chosen to wear it tonight.

She wanted to remind Hannibal Lecter that he was not the only one with a weapon, and they were equally capable of destroying one another.

When Bedelia walked calmly into the kitchen at quarter to seven, she was both satisfied and relieved to find that the dress had the same effect upon him that night as it had the last time she had worn it.

Hannibal, who had been adding the finishing touches to a most delicious-looking bruschetta, looked up at Bedelia and she saw the same lustful look in his eyes which she had seen only once before. She walked forward with casual ease, as if quite unaware of the effect the dress was having upon him. Hannibal’s eyes drifted appreciatively across her figure and he stood up straight before her, the island between them an immovable barrier, a purposeless umpire to their intellectual sparring. Bedelia held his gaze and felt part of her confidence waver, and she battled to recover it.

“Would you like a drink, Bedelia?” Hannibal asked politely, and Bedelia’s confidence wavered once again.

She had managed to avoid alcohol the last time he had provided her with it, her leaving the room in anger justifying it completely. But if she continued to avoid it he would grow suspicious.

“Please” she responded easily. 

Hannibal turned on his heel and began to pour her a glass from the bottle she had purchased that very afternoon. As he handed her the crystal glass, which seemed impossibly full, she felt her stomach tighten. He poured himself an equal measure and lifted the glass into the air. Her stomach clenched at the thought of what he was about to toast.  
“To you” he said, surprising her completely. Was this an expression of regret or, greater still, an apology?

“To control” she responded with meaning, clinking their glasses gently, before drawing her own towards her lips. 

A small smile played on Hannibal’s lips at her gently-spoken warning, and he nodded almost imperceptibly, before admiring the aroma of the wine and raising it to his lips. He was about to take the first glorious sip when there was a formal three-tap knock upon the door. Bedelia lowered her glass from her lips, momentarily relieved of the distraction. Until her stomach clenched almost painfully in apprehension.

“He’s early” Bedelia remarked, knowing that it was currently around six forty-five. Hannibal lowered his glass and placed it on the island.

“On the contrary” Hannibal responded, his tone adopting a low and warm timbre which made Bedelia’s insides quiver, despite her deep-seated fears concerning the evening. “He’s right on time.”

Bedelia swallowed hard and placed her own untouched glass gently upon the island, as Hannibal made his way towards the door. She heard him open the door and greet their guest with effortless politeness which made her feel deeply unsettled. After taking a few moments to compose herself, Bedelia stood up straight and walked confidently towards the front of the apartment, smiling warmly at their dinner guest.

The man was young, perhaps mid-thirties, with intelligent eyes and a calm expression. He was tall, with dark hair and a piercing gaze, and a manner which she found to be both interesting and most telling. He was handsome, very attractive indeed, and he knew it. And from the way he was looking at her, his eyes darkening with want in a way almost akin to Hannibal’s, she suspected that the feeling was mutual. And from the way he took her hand when Hannibal introduced him, she was convinced of it.

“Lydia, this is Dr Anthony Dimmond from Oxford, England” Hannibal introduced politely, the academic taking her hand in his own before the introduction was formally completed.   
Dr Dimmond’s hand was strong and warm, and he smelt masculine, of oak and flames and old books. There was an arrogance and self-assuredness in his demeanour which caught her off-guard, possibly because she was distracted by Hannibal, whose attentions were focused darkly on their dinner guest.

“Please, call me Anthony” Dr Anthony Dimmond requested, his voice such a low-timbre as to be almost a purr. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Anthony” Bedelia responded politely, removing her hand from Anthony’s before Hannibal disposed of him before he’d ever had the chance to remove his coat. Which, based on the familiar look in Hannibal’s eyes, was precisely what he appeared to be considering. “May I take your coat?” she offered. Anthony removed his coat – well-worn and somewhat threadbare – and she took it with care, before disappearing into an anteroom where she hung it up.

Before returning to Hannibal and Anthony, whose mingled voices she could hear just beyond the wall, Bedelia quickly searched through their guest’s pockets. She found his wallet which contained a small quantity of cash, as well as a British driving licence which confirmed his identity, and her suspicions about his age; he was only thirty-four. Bedelia swallowed hard and replaced the licence, before putting the wallet back where she found it and smoothing down the coat. When she returned to Hannibal and Anthony she found them laughing good naturedly at something Hannibal had said, and the laughter continued as she approached.

“Lydia, would you please pour Mr Dimmond a drink in the parlour?” Hannibal asked politely. “The first course will be ready in a few minutes” he advised. Bedelia nodded slowly in response. She wondered whether he would be the second.

“This way, Dr Dimmond” Bedelia motioned, as she lead the puppy-like academic through the apartment.

“Please, call me Anthony” he requested, as he followed her into the parlour.

Bedelia could feel Hannibal’s eyes upon her with each step that she took.

As soon as she reached the parlour and poured their guest his requested drink – cognac, no less – she found the confidence she had mustered begin to desert her once more. Whilst the man was flirtatious and almost offensively aware of his own good looks, he was intelligent and funny, and she found him quite interesting. She listened with great interest as he talked to her of his work, so much so that she was almost distracted from the sad inevitable end to the evening.

“Please, go on” she encouraged, her voice low and quiet, as she desperately hoped that he would.

When Hannibal came and announced that dinner was served, she felt a strong pang of fear which was so overwhelming that she feared she would be unable to stand. And yet she managed to, somehow, walking mechanically into the dining room with Anthony, who was talking with an enthusiasm she struggled to share. 

As they reached the dining table Hannibal pulled out Bedelia’s chair for her and, possibly due to sensing her almost imperceptible level of discomfort which their oblivious guest was completely unaware of, placed a comforting hand upon her shoulder. She felt her tense muscles loosen beneath his touch, which surprised her considerably, but she willingly embraced it.

As the first course was replaced with the second, the conversation and the wine flowered, and Bedelia felt her nerves begin to fray. She felt so unaccustomedly nervous that she found her appetite deserting her almost completely. When Hannibal invited Anthony to Dr Fell’s lecture on Friday she almost choked, and their guest’s revelation that the food she was eating was precisely what the ancient romans fed to animals to improve their taste did little to restore her. Although she was aware of the likelihood of Hannibal having considered how she would taste more than once, she felt confident that she would not be present when he finally decided to indulge in the impulse, if ever. 

Not wanting to make Hannibal aware of the extent or nature of her discomfort, Bedelia chewed slowly and tried to convince her stomach to settle, before meeting his eyes with a confident gaze, and announced that Hannibal had a very sophisticated palate.

“He is very particular about how I taste” she advised, before continuing to eat her main course, despite her stomach’s strong aversion to her doing so. She felt Hannibal’s eyes upon, and could sense the smile on his lips.

“Is it that kind of party?” Anthony asked, his tone low and serious. 

Bedelia looked up at Hannibal and was unsurprised to find that he was watching her, the same mischievous glint present in his eyes, as amusement radiated off his very being. He was challenging her, hoping she would respond, or ‘participate’, as he would say. But she was determined that she would not, and her silence was a loud testament to the fact.

“It’s not that kind of party” Hannibal responded, amusement present in his voice and expression, as he turned slowly towards their guest.

“No” Bedelia confirmed, as she struggled with yet another mouthful of food. “It really isn’t” she added.

Somehow she managed to get through the remainder of the main course and dessert and, to her great surprise, so did their dinner guest. It had been a whirlwind of an evening, and it seemed as though they had only just welcomed him into the apartment when they were saying goodbye on the doorstep, and Bedelia watched him depart. She felt a curious sensation of relief and foreboding as Hannibal closed the door quietly behind him.

Hannibal had invited Anthony to attend the lecture on Friday, the lecture which he himself would be giving. She had assumed he said it to unnerve her, and possibly prompt a reaction, but there was no question in he would not be leaving their apartment that night, certainly not alive. And yet he just had, and she was utterly perplexed.

“You let him go” Bedelia said simply, curiosity present in her own voice. She felt danger now even more than she had done before. Hannibal was enjoying this far too much, to the extent that he was taking unnecessary risks and becoming unduly reckless. 

Was that why he had let him leave? Had he simply played with him tonight, like a cat with a mouse, before preparing for the fatal pounce. It was cruelty far beyond her comprehension, and from his eyes she could see that it was little more than a source of amusement to him.

“What would you have me do, Bedelia?” he asked, his tone a challenge, a dare, his eyes and his voice compelling her to answer. 

Instead Bedelia simply stared at him, and she did not. Not because she did not wish to reveal just how much he had surprised her, which he would consider an acknowledgement of a victory he did not deserve.

But because, logically, she found that there was only one, immediate solution which did present itself to her. 

And her willingness to accept it was terrifying.


	13. Chapter 13

After the unanticipated departure of Anthony Dimmond, Bedelia helped Hannibal to clear the table, and kept him company in the kitchen whilst he cleaned up after dinner. Whilst Hannibal preferred to clean and tidy alone, he was appreciative of Bedelia’s company, and especially tonight; she had reacted with much more reservation than he had anticipated. In a sense, her lack of reaction was almost as invigorating to him as the natural (and, in his mind, inevitable) outcome to this particular problem.

Bedelia cradled her untouched glass of very fine wine which she had had since dinner, watching as Hannibal wiped down the work surfaces, having cleaned up after dinner. She found herself feeling weary and numb, her fear replaced with frustration, her previous hesitation at what she must do being replaced with an urgent need for action. This was just a game to Hannibal, and she was just a pawn in it. And although pawns were essential, the first line of offence and defence, they were many in number, and they were certainly expendable. 

Hannibal might consider her to be a pawn, but she refused to allow their child to become one.

Bedelia swallowed hard and walked past Hannibal and towards the sink, feigning a confidence she did not feel.

“Would you like to join me in the parlour?” Hannibal asked, the casual nature of his tone seeming almost dismissive considering the events of the evening. Bedelia suppressed a shudder as she poured her wine down the sink. Hannibal heard the sound and turned towards her curiously.

“No, thank you” she responded, staring at the red liquid as it drained away. She placed the empty glass upon the counter and turned towards him. “I’m going to bed” she informed him. Hannibal held her gaze and nodded in understanding. It was clear that she was not extending him an invitation. “Goodnight, Hannibal” she said quietly, walking past him and out of the kitchen before he could respond. 

Hannibal watched her curiously, his eyes drifting longingly down her bare back, which the red dress revealed. He suppressed an emotion akin to disappointment, and began to wash up the glass.

Bedelia walked mechanically into the bedroom and slowly removed her dress, draping it over the nearest chair. She then removed a dark blue silk nightdress from her collection and adorned it, before heading towards the bed and practically collapsing into it. Despite how difficult and complicated the day had been, she fell asleep the moment her head touched the pillow.

Despite having retired shortly after half-past nine, Bedelia slept until just after eight, which she would consider to be a lie-in on any day. She blinked tiredly at her watch, as though expecting it to change, before pushing herself up slowly into a sitting position. She felt well, physically at least, and very well rested. Her head was a little sore, but she was not experiencing any discomfort in her belly, which was her primary concern. She glanced to her left and found Hannibal’s side of the bed perfectly made, with no sign of the man himself. She could hear movement from the other side of the apartment – possibly the kitchen – which made sense given the hour.

Knowing that Hannibal would be pondering the length of her sleep, amongst other things, Bedelia quickly got out of bed and made her way towards the bathroom, ignoring a wave of dizziness which she experienced due to the haste of her movements.

After turning on the shower, Bedelia slowly undressed herself, and was relieved to find that she had not lost any more blood. The degree of her relief was strong and all-encompassing, and she felt rather startled by it. Ignoring the emotion and the thoughts it provoked, Bedelia made her way slowly towards the slower, allowing the hot water to soothe her, cleansing her as best it could.

Determined not to become overwhelmed by the sinister world in which Hannibal insisting upon existing, and knowing that she had much to consider herself, Bedelia decided to spend the majority of the day in the city by herself. She would not be able to concentrate on the matter at hand if she remained in the apartment, and she would feel observed by Hannibal, who she was already confident was growing suspicious that something was not quite right. She hoped he would simply assume she was having second thoughts about remaining with him, which in a sense was true, though the reason for it was more complicated than even he could imagine.

After cleaning her head wound and replacing the steri-strips, Bedelia applied a generous amount of make-up to conceal the injury and the bruise which was continuing to blossom. She then dried and curled her hair, and found herself quickly feeling more confident as she came to look more like her usual self. After a brief consideration of her wardrobe she selected a cobalt blue dress with knee-high black leather boots and her new light blue coat. To complement the colour palette, she also selected an aqua hat with a wide brim and a blue ribbon which matched her dress, together with a pair of dark blue leather gloves and a peacock silk scarf. Satisfied with the result, Bedelia collected her handbag and walked confidently out of the bedroom, closing the door with an air of finality behind her as she made her way towards the kitchen, where she knew Hannibal would be. 

When Bedelia arrived in the kitchen, she found that Hannibal was standing by the percolator pouring himself a glass of coffee. He was wearing a dark brown three-piece suit and a look of curiosity, as he turned slowly towards her.

“Good morning, Bedelia” he greeted amiably. Bedelia gripped her bag even tighter. It felt almost as though the previous night had not happened. Though she knew what would be following most certainly would. “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

Bedelia felt her stomach tighten.

“Yes, thank you” she responded casually. “And you?” she asked, wondering whether he came to bed last night. He held her gaze with an intelligent, penetrating stare, and she credited her resolve that her own gaze did not waver.

“Yes” he said simply. Bedelia nodded in acknowledgement. “Coffee?” he offered politely, though there was doubt in his voice. It was clear she was going out.

“No, thank you” Bedelia replied. “I’m going to explore some more of Florence” she advised. “I thought I might visit the Uffizi Gallery” she explained, her eyes holding his gaze. “I’ll be gone for most of the day, which will give you plenty of time to work on your lecture for tomorrow” she advised. 

It was a perfect excuse, and even if she did not have one, she did not believe her absence would arouse suspicion; although she and Hannibal did spend a considerable amount of time together, they also spent a healthy amount of time apart. Though her independent excursions were far less lethal than his.

Hannibal nodded slowly in response before walking towards her, his calm demeanour almost comforting.

“You do not distract me, Bedelia” he assured her, his tone kind and sincere. “I hope you enjoy the Uffizi Gallery” he added. “It’s quite remarkable.”

“I’m sure it is” she replied, her gaze not wavering. “Goodbye, Hannibal” she added, before kissing him tenderly on the cheek. She felt his hand on her hip and she leaned closer to him.

“Goodbye, Bedelia” he responded, his breath warm on her ear. She felt her knees weaken.

Without another word or a backward glance, Bedelia turned on the spot and walked out of the apartment with feigned confidence, her heart plummeting as she closed the door behind her.

She was beginning to feeling truly out of her depths.

In order to distract herself enough from her deep-seated feelings of fear and weakness, Bedelia walked to the train station and travelled into the city, spending a few hours walking around the shops and boutiques in Florence, of which there were many. Whilst she enjoyed the distraction and did find it somewhat soothing, she was reluctant to purchase any of the divine garments she came across, which reminded herself quite painfully of her current predicament; she did not wish to buy clothes in her current size because they may not fit her much longer, and buying clothes which were looser than her usual fitted-style felt like tempting fate – and her pregnancy itself was already such a risk, taking any further ones seemed utterly incomprehensible. 

And so, what had started off as a relaxing trip for Bedelia quickly became a reminder of the dangerous and precarious nature of her current condition. 

Finding herself feeling suddenly rather light-headed, Bedelia realised that it was almost one o’clock and she had not yet eaten. Although she was aware of a feeling of hunger, she felt too nauseous and anxious to eat, but she knew that she must. Because, despite how much the prospect terrified her and regardless of the risks to her life, she was desperate to do all that she could to give her baby the best chance at survival; and that meant carrying it for as long as she could.

Taking a deep breath and suppressing a strong wave of anxiety, Bedelia stepped into the nearest café and took a seat by the window. The scent of coffee and fresh bread soothed her almost immediately, and she was relieved to be off her feet. Although she was loathe to admit it, she had not quite recovered from her collapse the night before last, or the subsequent bleeding yesterday morning. She was feeling incredibly thirsty and, due to the relaxing atmosphere of the café, had calmed herself enough to realise the extent of her hunger. She was ravenous. It was almost a relief when a very handsome waiter approached her.

Bedelia smiled politely and greeted the waiter in Italian, before casting her eyes quickly across the menu. Her attentions fixed upon a delightful-sounding chicken and chorizo tagliatelle, which she requested, as well as a pot of green tea, which she hoped would settle her stomach. The waiter assured her the food would be served shortly and she thanked him, before turning her attentions towards the window. She had always found people watching to be incredibly relaxing.

The waiter brought her green tea to her a couple of minutes later, pouring her a glass before leaving the table to attend to a new couple who had just arrived. Bedelia cradled the fine china cup with both hands and took a deep breath, blowing the hot steam away as she brought the cup to her lips. 

Her ability to think and make decisions was much improved now that she was out of the apartment; Hannibal’s proximity, and the feelings of confinement which she sometimes experienced within the walls of a space which was quite definitively his, meant she was almost completely incapable of thinking logically. And logical thoughts were the only ones which she could afford in a situation like this.

She wondered, not for the first time, why it was that Hannibal invited her to join him in Florence. Initially she had thought it was because he liked her, as a person and a psychiatrist; the psychological intimacy they shared was both acknowledged and appreciated by him, and there had been more than one occasion where she had felt a strong, almost magnetic pull of attraction between them both. Although they had not acted upon it for many years, only sleeping together quite recently, when he turned up to her house with dinner to apologise for missing an appointment without calling to cancel, despite having a good reason. So, at first, she had allowed herself to believe that he valued her and enjoyed her company, and that he wanted to share his life with her.

But now, she was not so sure.

Lately she had been feeling like she had become Hannibal Lecter’s beard – an element of his life which added respectability to his social position; it was much less suspicious and far more conventional for a married couple to make a home for themselves in a new country. And if people did become suspicious of Hannibal, they would surely discount it, when they considered the fact he was just another married man, not a lone psychotic. Bedelia considered whether he fell into the first category or the second, and quickly decided that he was both.

Bedelia placed her half-empty tea cup back in its saucer, and was grateful that her stomach was beginning to settle, despite the subject matter that was currently occupying her mind.

Hannibal was becoming increasingly reckless, the thrill he seemed to experience at being part of the hunt – whether as the hunter or the hunted – seemed to be suppressing his reason. This latest development with Anthony Dimmond was possibly the most dangerous of all; Hannibal had bought the man to their home, and invited him to the lecture tomorrow – as soon as he saw it, he would know Hannibal was a fraud and, by extension, her too. What would he do? What if he called Hannibal out publicly, and confronted him in the studilo in front of everyone? What then? Despite his clear fondness of a challenge, Hannibal could not kill a room full of people.

Though Bedelia was beginning to wonder if he might try.

And consideration of what Hannibal might do brought her back to the only matter more urgent and important to her than her own preservation; the safety of the life of the child which was growing inside her.

Bedelia placed her right hand upon her belly and splayed her fingers, feeling the warm, strong skin beneath her palm. As she sat perfectly still, she found herself considering her body, and she looked down slowly. Was it her imagination, or did he stomach feel harder than before? She applied a little pressure and was met with resistance, and her breath caught in her throat. Whilst she felt relieved that her body was adhering to its role and protecting her baby, she also found herself feeling vulnerable and afraid; if her stomach was already beginning to harden because of the pregnancy, it wouldn’t be long before she started to show. 

She was running out of time to decide what to do. Should she stay with Hannibal, whose reckless behaviour almost defied logic, or should she leave? Was leaving the only thing more reckless than staying?

What if she told Hannibal about the baby? Would that prompt him to think and act more rationally, and try to do everything he could to preserve the new lives they had so recently created for themselves in Florence, together with the one which was growing inside her?

Or would he kill her as punishment? Or torment her further, for his own curiosity and amusement? He was certainly doing so yesterday when it came to Mr Dimmond; it was almost as though he wanted to provoke not simply words or opinions from her, but actions, too. Whilst Bedelia wanted to be part of his life here, she would not participate in any acts of cruelty or violence. As she considered this, she found herself coming to terms with the fact that, if she did not do something, she herself could become one of Hannibal’s victims, and with her, their child.

By the time the waiter, whose attractiveness she barely even registered now, returned with her food, she thanked him absently and exhaled deeply, having made her decision.  
She needed to see what Hannibal would do tomorrow, how he would resolve the rather urgent situation involving Anthony Dimmond, and the outcome would determine how she would act. Although there was no doubt in her mind that the young academic would be killed, she knew that there was nothing she could do to prevent it; she could only hope for his sake that it would be quick and painless. And for the sake of herself and her baby, she hoped that Hannibal would be subtle and discreet, and not draw attention to himself or suspicion to his activities.

Because his actions tomorrow would affect not only their lives in the present, but the future life she was determined to protect. And she would do so at all costs.

Even if that cost was her life here with Hannibal.


	14. Chapter 14

After forcing herself to eat as much of her lunch as she could, Bedelia paid the bill in cash and left the restaurant, feeling both exhilarated and terrified at her resolution. Or, more specifically, her move towards it; if Hannibal acted recklessly and compromised their safety, she would leave. If he did not, she would remain for a couple of weeks and continue to review the situation and his behaviour before deciding on a final course of action. But in the meantime, she would make preparations for the former as she suspected it would be far more likely than the latter.

Bedelia spent another hour in the city before she found herself feeling weary, which was most tiresome. Deciding to listen to her body’s demands that she rested, especially given recent events, she hailed a taxi and headed back to the apartment.

As Bedelia unlocked the front door and stepped into the apartment, she became immediately aware of the fact that she was alone. She hesitated for a moment, before closing the door behind her and walking through the apartment, the click of her heels echoing in the silence.

Satisfied that Hannibal was not at home, Bedelia made her way towards the bedroom, and was about to open the door when something caught her eye. There was a note on the door addressed to her, in Hannibal’s distinctive handwriting. Bedelia felt her heart begin to race, and she ignored the tightening in her stomach, as she unfolded the paper and read its contents.

“Bedelia, I have been called to a meeting at the Palazzo Vecchio to finalise the arrangements for tomorrow evening. I will be back this evening. Hannibal”.

Bedelia exhaled sharply and felt relief flood her, as she folded the note and opened the door to the bedroom.

After placing her bag on the bed, Bedelia removed her hat, gloves and scarf and laid them down upon it, ignoring her tiredness as she walked confidently towards her wardrobe. It was almost four o’clock, so she didn’t have much time.

Instead of falling asleep as her body demanded, Bedelia spent the next half an hour packing all of her required possessions into a large brown leather holdall. The bag already contained a large quantity of clothes from America, and she added the rest, though not a single garment from Florence. She also included a large quantity of cash, her passports (Lydia Fell’s and her own) and her own American bank cards and cash, as well as a few other essentials. She then lifted the bag, which was heavy, and placed it back at the bottom of her wardrobe. Although Hannibal was a curious man, she did not believe that he would snoop through her personal effects; besides, the holdall had been at the bottom and filled with her clothes since their arrival in Florence, and if he did question the addition of her passport and cash, she could simply advise him that it was for emergencies, in case they needed to leave in a hurry. 

Satisfied with this course of action, Bedelia closed the door to the wardrobe and turned to face the bedroom, and was immediately struck by a strong wave of dizziness. Bedelia took a few steps back until her back was against the wardrobe, and reached out a shaking hand for the handle, in order to steady herself. Her body suddenly felt hot and rather heavy, and she closed her eyes and lowered her head slightly, before taking several deep, restorative breaths. She recovered after just over a minute, and walked slowly towards the bed, sitting down upon it as soon as she was close enough. Without even removing her shoes, Bedelia lay down slowly, the pillow drawing her into a welcome embrace as sleep claimed her almost immediately. 

After sleeping for some time, Bedelia was drawn from her slumber by the feeling of the mattress dipping, due to the weight of someone sitting beside her. She felt a familiar hand drawing a curl from her face, and her senses were immediately flooded with the scent of him. She opened her eyes slowly and blinked up at him tiredly.

Hannibal was sitting beside her and watching her with interest, curiosity and gentleness upon his expression. Bedelia felt herself relaxing considerably, and she smiled tiredly, before pushing herself up into a sitting position.

“Good evening” Hannibal greeted politely. Bedelia tucked some hair behind her ear and found her gaze drifting towards the window. It was dark outside.

“What time is it?” she asked, finding herself feeling suspiciously well-rested, and rather hungry. Again.

“A little after seven” Hannibal informed her. Bedelia turned towards him and was unable to conceal her surprise. 

“I had only intended to close my eyes for a few minutes” she said quietly, almost to herself. 

Hannibal nodded in response and reached out to her once more, brushing her hair from her face and studying her head wound intently. The steri-strips needed to be replaced, due to the amount of make-up Bedelia had used to conceal her injury. The purpling bruise which was forming appeared to be darkening by the hour.

“You’re very pale, Bedelia” Hannibal remarked, his concern sincere. “And we need to change the steri-strips and clean your wound” he advised. 

Bedelia ignored the strong draw she felt towards him at his touch and his words, and demanded that her body did the same. The fact that he was expressing more concern over a minor head injury which had almost healed than their imminent exposure was infuriating. She turned her head away, out of his touch. 

“I’ll deal with it” Bedelia responded, her voice becoming cooler as she returned to full consciousness. “Thank you” she added politely, her gaze not meeting his. 

Hannibal stared at her for a moment as he considered her reaction. He knew that Bedelia was independent and did not appreciate attempts to do things for her which she was perfectly capable of doing herself, but he was simply expressing concern and a willingness to assist. Though he suspected her frostiness with him was more complicated, especially given how aloof she was this morning.

“You’re angry with me for the way I am handling the situation with Anthony Dimmond” Hannibal said simply. Bedelia turned towards him slowly and met his gaze.  
“I am frustrated by the fact that you are mishandling it so completely due to your determination to be needlessly reckless” she corrected, speaking in a slow and clear manner which reminded Hannibal immediately of their sessions in her home when she was his psychiatrist. He found himself wondering whether she still was. “This is not a game, Hannibal” she stated firmly, her voice drawing him out of his thoughts.

“Isn’t it?” he asked, curiosity and intelligence gleaming in his eyes. Bedelia returned his gaze with a confident stare.

“No” she responded, her voice quieter than she had intended, as her thoughts drifted to the baby which was growing inside her. “No, it’s not.” 

Hannibal titled his head to the side and considered her curiously. She seemed more than just angry with him, she was upset. The former he understood, but the latter confused him. And Bedelia was very difficult to read, and would only let people in under her terms and to an extent which she felt comfortable with. And right now she was shutting him out completely. It was unusual, and most unlike her. He did not like it.

“Anthony Dimmond’s appearance in Florence, and our subsequent encounter, was unforeseen and unfortunate” Hannibal explained, as Bedelia looked up at him warily. “The chances of it happening were considerably low” he added simply.

Bedelia swallowed hard, as her mind drifted towards the subject of their baby once more, whose very existence was also against the odds. 

“But not impossible” Bedelia countered, meeting his gaze. Hannibal’s expression remained impassive.

“Apparently not” he replied. Bedelia blinked and turned away from him. “Mr Dimmond’s arrival in Florence leaves me with no choice” he said simply. “But I hope he will be the last, Bedelia. For now, at least” he added, prompting her to look back up at him in surprise. “I cannot promise this, of course, but once he is gone we should be able to continue establishing the lives we have worked so hard to create” he stated. Bedelia felt her heart race at the possibility, and a relief she had not expected to experience flooded her. “The disappearance of any other individuals linked to the Palazzo Vecchio would risk drawing attention to me. To us” he explained, as he sought to convince her. 

“But you can’t stop, Hannibal” Bedelia said simply. “You can’t assure me that you will stop killing people any more than an alcoholic can swear they won’t have another drink” she added. Hannibal stared at her curiously.

“You think I’m addicted?” he asked, intrigue and amusement present in her toe.

“You don’t?” she asked. 

Hannibal stared at Bedelia as he considered her suggestion, and thought carefully before providing his response.

“I think I satisfy my own needs in the same way that anyone else does” he responded simply.

“What need is that?” Bedelia asked curiously. 

“The need for survival” Hannibal responded confidently. “And everything that encompasses” he added. Bedelia turned away from him, seeming disappointed with the answer. “We have lived her for over four months, and I have not killed a single person close enough to us to our lives that would risk our exposure” he reminded her.

“Except for the Fells” Bedelia responded drily.

“No one will suspect me of that” Hannibal replied confidently. “And even if they did, there is no evidence, and so that line of thought – if it ever arises – will be quickly extinguished” he assured her. “Mr Dimmond’s death will not arouse any suspicions. Not in our direction, at least” he stated. 

Bedelia considered Hannibal’s logic, and she realised that, to an extent, he was correct. As long as there was no known link between Anthony Dimmond’s appearance and themselves, they would not be suspected. Why would they? As long as Hannibal was careful – and he was careful – there was every chance they would be safe.

“By tomorrow night, this will all be over” Hannibal assured Bedelia, prompting her to turn her attentions towards him and meet his gaze. “And to celebrate the end of it, I bought you something” he informed her, before reaching into his breast pocket and handing her an envelope, which she accepted and opened it slowly. A smile crept upon her lips as she reviewed the contents.

“Tickets to ‘Madame Butterfly’ at the Teatro Niccolini” Bedelia said, looking up and meeting his gaze, her eyes alight. It was her favourite, and he remembered.

“Two weeks from Saturday” he advised. Bedelia smiled softly and nodded in acknowledgement.

“Thank you, Hannibal” she returned. Hannibal held her gaze and smiled, before leaning towards her and capturing her lips in a searing kiss. She tasted incredible, but different, somehow. And he could not put his finger on it.

“Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes” he informed her. She nodded in response, and held his gaze as he cupped her cheek with his right hand. “You are very pale, Bedelia” he remarked, concern entering his tone once more. She placed her hand over his and clasped it.

“I’ll be fine tomorrow” Bedelia replied. Hannibal held her gaze and nodded in understanding. 

“We both will” he assured her, before kissing her once more and then rising to his feet, as he walked wordlessly out of the bedroom.

Bedelia clasped the tickets in her hand and stared at them, trying to focus on this, on the future. But at the moment, the furthest into the future she could imagine was tomorrow, and she was struggling to a future for herself or her baby laying beyond it.

But whatever happened tomorrow, she would ensure that they had one.


	15. Chapter 15

After spending an unexpectedly pleasant evening with Hannibal in the parlour, followed by a divine dinner, Bedelia retired to bed shortly before midnight, having been roused as she was on the cusp of sleep in her favourite armchair beside the fire. Hannibal had, in a manner which was both decorous and firm, assisted her out of her armchair despite her assurances she could manage, and escorted her to the bedroom. 

After assuring Bedelia he would join her soon, Hannibal returned to the study to review his speech for the following evening, which occupied him for almost an hour. By the time he joined Bedelia he found her fast asleep, curled up close to the edge of the bed with her back to him, facing the window, her form bathed in moonlight. Hannibal stared at her for a while, whilst he marvelled at her beauty. He committed this particular tableau to his memory, and decided that he would paint her, as soon as the lecture was over. 

Hannibal changed into his nightclothes, a charcoal grey set of silk pyjamas which Bedelia had bought him in Paris, and got into bed beside her. Edging closer to her, he draped his arm over her waist, his hand falling towards her abdomen. Hannibal closed his eyes just as his fingertips grazed her silk-glad belly, but his calmness and thoughts of painting disappeared almost immediately, as Bedelia startled in her sleep and pushed his hand away, sitting bolt upright. 

Hannibal’s eyes flew open and he sat up immediately, immediately alert and acting instinctively, his hands reaching for Bedelia, who was trembling and breathing raggedly. His hands found her waist and her upper arm and he tried to draw her close but she resisted, her eyes wide and her expression panicked as she met his gaze. Even in the darkness her eyes glowered with fear, and Hannibal found himself reminded of the evening he found her in her home with her dead patient. He wondered whether that was where she currently found herself too.

“Bedelia” Hannibal said, his voice calm but commanding. “Bedelia, breathe” he instructed.

Bedelia let out a ragged breath and inhaled shakily, her heart pounding in her chest as she battled to calm herself. She looked into his gaze and heard his voice as he spoke, his words of encouragement and reassurance washing over her as she finally regained her breathing. She’d been dreaming about the baby, about telling him about it. It had been the last thing she had been thinking about before she fell asleep, how he might react. They’d had a wonderful evening together despite the looming threat of tomorrow, and she found herself reminded of the qualities in Hannibal that she admired; his intellect, his astuteness, his fascinating persona. His capacity for tenderness too, in the way he spoke with her, and touched her that night, and the kiss they shared beside the fireplace. She’d been in the parlour in her dream, standing in front of the fireplace and talking to him as he stood opposite her, the words spilling from her lips. ‘I’m pregnant, Hannibal’ she’d disclosed, her eyes surveying his for a response, a reaction. But instead of replying, he walked slowly towards her. ‘Hannibal..?’ she had asked. 

And then she felt his hand on her upper belly, and fear tore her from her slumber.

“I’m sorry” Bedelia gasped finally, her eyes still wide, her breathing unsteady. 

Bedelia felt Hannibal’s strong hands upon her as he held her gaze, and she felt safe in his presence, for the most part. But unlike the other factors and people in Hannibal’s life, the subject of her pregnancy was something that she found herself completely incapable of discerning how he would – or even, might – react. And that terrified her. She felt the ghost of his fingertips upon her skin and her heart raced once more, her whole body trembling. What if he knew? What if he could tell, simply by touching her? She was amazed she’d been able to conceal it for the past twenty-four hours, especially given how much blood she had lost, and how tired she had been during her recovery. Though she imagined Hannibal was distracted by grander schemes.

“I’m sorry” she repeated, lowering her eyes from his and clutching handfuls of the silk sheets.

“There’s nothing to apologise for” Hannibal responded, his voice calm and assured, and with the professional edge of Hannibal Lecter, psychiatrist. “Bedelia” he said gently, prompting her to look up at him. She swallowed hard and tried to recover her breathing, but was unable to stop a shaking breath from escaping.

Hannibal stared at Bedelia, watching her closely and assessing her, whilst giving her time to calm herself. He stroked her waist gently but did not attempt to draw her close, knowing that she needed space in order to recover.

“It was just a dream” Bedelia said, breathless and weary, as she looked up and met his gaze. Her tone was almost dismissive, and Hannibal could tell that she was nervous and embarrassed. She hadn’t seemed herself for the past day or so. 

Whilst she had not yet confided in him about the mysterious doctor’s appointment, he found no evidence that she was unwell, and he was confident he would know if she was. He suspected she was perimenopausal and did not wish to discuss it, which he understood and respected. Perimenopause could also cause nightmares which were often described as vivid and intense by those who experienced them. It was therefore not surprising that such a condition, combined with Bedelia’s evident unease about Anthony Dimmond’s impending demise, had led to this. In a way, he was almost reassured that he was presented with evidence supporting his hypothesis. It was a far better outcome than the numerous other worrying scenarios which Hannibal had been considering and analysing then discounting, and some which he had not even allowed himself to contemplate.  
“Would you like to talk about it?” Hannibal asked gently, his tone sincere. Bedelia blinked herself out of her stupor and shook her head.

“No” Bedelia said quietly. “Thank you, Hannibal” she added, placing her hand over one he was holding gently upon her waist. “I’d like to go back to sleep” she explained.   
Hannibal held Bedelia’s gaze and nodded, watching as she lay down slowly on her right side, facing him. He kept his hand on her waist and was pleasantly surprised when she edged closer to him. 

Bedelia placed one hand on his upper arm, which felt strong and muscular, and made her feel safe. She edged closer still and felt his hand on her back as she rested her head beneath his chin, her body fitting against his like a puzzle piece, as he held her close.

“You can go back to sleep now, Bedelia” Hannibal assured her, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll stay with you” he added gently. “I’ll be right here beside you” he said quietly, his breath ghosting over her hair. 

Bedelia nodded absently against his chest and slowly closed her eyes, as sleep claimed her once again.

When Bedelia next opened her eyes, the combination of the darkness of the room and how considerably well rested she felt confused her greatly, distracting her almost completely from her embarrassment from the night before. After turning on the bedside lamp and consulting her wristwatch upon the table, her eyes widened and her stomach dropped. It was almost ten o’clock.

The fact that she had slept for almost ten hours, combined with the memories which came flooding back from her nightmare the night before, caused Bedelia to feel anxiety bordering on panic. After allowing herself a minute or so to calm herself, using breathing techniques which she utilised after her first panic attack following the death of her patient, Bedelia slowly got out of bed and made her way towards her dresser, selecting a dark blue silk robe and putting it on as she made her way towards the door. 

As soon as Bedelia stepped out of the bedroom and into the main room of the open-plan apartment she found herself drawn towards the direction of the kitchen, where the most delicious aromas were coming from. Eggs, toast, and butter. Finding herself becoming increasingly aware of her acute hunger, Bedelia walked calmly towards the kitchen, securing the sash of the robe around her waist as she did so. 

Bedelia was feeling utterly mortified and incredibly anxious about the incident the night before. Whilst Hannibal’s reaction had been kind and reassuring, it did little to assuage her already prevalent fears concerning him discovering her pregnancy before she was ready to tell him. And so she was determined to allay any fears or suspicions he may have about her. She therefore took a deep breath and released it slowly, before walking into the kitchen with a confidence which she did not truly possess.

As Bedelia stepped into the kitchen her eyes focused immediately upon Hannibal, who was preparing food on the island. The room smelled delightfully of toast and eggs and fruit, and Bedelia found her stomach growling as she stepped into Hannibal’s lair. Her anxiety was soothed by the sight of him cutting strawberries and raspberries and arranging them neatly onto freshly made French toast, the scent of which caused her mouth to water. She walked slowly towards him, as though in a trance, her eyes fixed upon the food.

“You’re awake” Hannibal observed, looking up from his masterpiece as he spoke. “I took the liberty of preparing you french toast with fresh fruit” he announced, and Bedelia smiled softly. Another of her favourites. 

“What’s the occasion?” Bedelia asked, wondering if it was a gesture of comfort and kindness as a direct response to her nightmare just hours before. 

“I wasn’t aware that breakfast required an occasion” Hannibal responded simply, as he adjusted the position of an errant raspberry, before adding blueberries to his work. “But if you’re not hungry…”

“I’m hungry” Bedelia responded, a little too keenly, as she took up a seat at the island. “Thank you, Hannibal” she said sincerely, as Hannibal carried the plate around to her and laid it down before her, providing her with cutlery and then pouring her a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Bedelia felt suddenly very self-conscious as her embarrassment crept up on her once more. “You closed the curtains so the sun wouldn’t wake me” she observed, looking up at Hannibal as he placed the glass of juice beside her. He remained silent for a moment before responding.

“You’ve seemed rather tired over the past couple of days” Hannibal replied calmly. “I thought you could do with the rest” he added, as he began to tidy up.

Bedelia wondered how Hannibal prepared her breakfast with such perfect timing, as though knowing when she would wake. It was almost unsettling.

“Too many late nights” Bedelia observed casually, as she picked up her cutlery and began to slice into the French toast, which smelled divine. Hannibal glanced up at her and watched her for a moment before continuing with his cleaning.

“Quite possibly” Hannibal agreed, his voice warm and soothing, like honey. “Perhaps a quiet day will assist you further, before the lecture tonight” he suggested. Hannibal noticed Bedelia hesitate for a moment, as she stopped chewing, but quickly recovered herself. “Are you still feeling up to joining me tonight?” Hannibal asked

Bedelia looked up at Hannibal and met his gaze. Was he suggesting she stay at home? Was this concern he was expressing sincere? Did he care about her well-being and wish her to rest? Or was this a test that she needed to ensure she passed? Failure to do so could cause him to become suspicious not simply about her loyalty to him, but the condition she was desperately trying to conceal. It was the latter that prompted her confident answer.

“Of course” Bedelia responded, her voice calm and controlled, as she reached for the orange juice and rose the glass to her lips. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

And yet, just eight hours later, after spending a blameless day reading in the apartment and trying to ignore her ever-rising fear, Bedelia found herself kicking herself for such a response.

She was sitting a few rows back from the front in the studiolo, which Hannibal had informed her was the perfect place to ‘observe’. The room was dark and crowded, and her (apparently already heightened) senses drew all the scents of the room – the musk, the parchment, the damp and the melding of a variety of expensive colognes – which quickly overwhelmed her. And the heat did not help, though whether that was due to the weather or her own discomfort she could not tell.

Hannibal had introduced her to several academics and reacquainted her with ones she had already met. She used the opportunity to discreetly scan the room, and found herself experiencing an odd combination of fear and relief at Anthony Dimmond’s apparent absence. When Hannibal had announced the lecture was due to begin and he escorted her to her seat, she found herself feeling more anxious than relieved at Anthony’s absence, and that both confused and concerned her. She was so distracted by her thoughts that she missed the first few minutes of Hannibal’s lecture, not hearing a single word of it despite being sat less than twelve feet away from him. 

By the time Bedelia blinked herself out of her stupor and forced herself to focus, staring straight ahead at the projector as image after torturous image burned themselves upon her mind, and she found the combination of the atmosphere and the subject matter to be deeply disturbing. And she was already on edge as it was.

Bedelia was anxious about what was being discussed, about Anthony’s absence, and about the repercussions on both herself and Hannibal. She felt hot and tired and almost sick with anxiety, and the fact that she was wearing the tightest shapewear she owned in order to disguise what she feared was a slight swell at the base of her abdomen which might betray her only added to her unease. Shifting in her seat slightly she let out a calming breath very slowly, and tried to focus upon the matter at hand, which she almost immediately came to regret. For Hannibal was now talking about treachery and hell.

“Disgraced and blinded for betraying his emperor’s trust” Hannibal continued, his confidence at the material and his conviction as he spoke almost unsettling. As Bedelia looked up she met his gaze, and in that moment she began to wonder if he were talking just to her.

Betrayal, trust, treachery. Did he know about the baby? Had he worked out her condition? Was he testing her? Torturing her? Punishing her for not simply allowing herself to become pregnant, but from concealing it from him?

Bedelia was drawn sharply from her thoughts by the sensation of her nails digging painfully into her palms. She swallowed hard and blinked, looking up at Hannibal and trying to listen, as she tried to think logically and assure herself she was simply being paranoid. Like the tell-tale heart beating beneath the floorboards, her guilt at not informing Hannibal of her condition, and her fear of him discovering it, was causing her to think the most irrational unlikely thoughts. Hannibal was speaking to the studiolo, not to her. She was being ridiculous. And she almost believed herself, too, her logic based on years of study and experience.

Until Hannibal stepped into the projected image of Lucifer, the name written boldly above his head, as he took up the body of the best. 

The creature’s face was grotesque and distorted, and concealed Hannibal’s own features entirely, so that all she could see through the harsh glare of the projector were his eyes. The wings which spread wide behind him gave him an almost gargoyle-like appearance, which was both macabre and threatening. Bedelia felt herself tremble as her remaining shreds of confidence and self-control abandoned her one by one, and she felt her stomach tightening in a fearful knot. 

The black, white and grey image before her, an image which she stared at as she desperately tried to identify individual parts of it and discern its meaning, reminded her strongly of her ultrasound image, which was concealed in her purse in the bag by her feet. Feeling almost sickened by the comparison, Bedelia reminded herself that the ultrasound image depicted precisely what it would be expected to – a normal, healthy baby. And yet, to even the most expert members of any medical of psychological field, Hannibal Lecter had appeared to be normal, respected and even revered. Until the day he was revealed to be a monster. 

Bedelia wondered whether the image before her was not indeed the true Hannibal Lecter – the monster, not the man. The very embodiment of evil.

And if that were true, what did that make her? And worse still, what did it make their child?

Bedelia’s memory of the image of the ultrasound quickly became distorted, as she imagined the baby developing wings, which stretched out wide, its face becoming as distorted as its father’s currently was. She could almost feel the flapping of wings within her belly.

Bedelia was brought sharply out of her stupor by the sensation of Hannibal’s hand upon her shoulder. By some miracle she managed not to flinch, but she was resisting a strong, almost overwhelming impulse to flee.

“Betrayal… hanging” Hannibal continued, as though reading her mind. He walked past her and began talking about Judas and death, and her stomach clenched almost painfully.  
Would Hannibal consider her pregnancy itself a betrayal, or her not telling him about it? She reasoned that it would certainly be the latter, possibly the former. Probably both. Would he believe she was Judas? Would her pregnancy constitute a betrayal, and a threat to not only Hannibal’s new life but his freedom? And if Hannibal did believe she had betrayed him, would he treat her in the same way that Judas was punished? If so, it wouldn’t just be her that suffered, that was punished for her actions, or her failure to act. Her baby would be too. Their baby.

My baby, Bedelia thought, correcting herself internally. 

And, in that moment, something shifted in her mind, and she achieved a moment of clarity, her decision finally made.

Although he was not the devil incarnate, Hannibal Lecter was a dangerous man, a monstrous man, and he would destroy anyone who posed a threat to his life or his freedom. That was who he was, the person he would always be: and no amount of galas or charity events or nights at the opera would change that. Because no amount of deeply intellectual discussions beside the fire or nights of passion between their silk sheets would change that; nor would Hannibal's words of comfort, his ability to be tender and even kind, and has thoughtful preparation of French toast after a difficult night would ever change who he was or what he was capable of. Whilst she had known this, deep down, she had accepted that joining him when he fled America did pose a risk to her safety and her freedom, she was under no illusions of that, no was she naive. She knew that Hannibal could kill her if he wanted to, but she believed she would know when that time was coming, if it ever did, and that she would be able to flee before it got to that stage. And that, in some ways, was almost as exhilarating as the prospect of living a life with Hannibal Lecter himself. It had been exciting and amusing and decadent and invigorating, and the danger to her own life had not concerned her nearly as much as it should have.

But Bedelia had never had another life to care about before, a life that mattered to her, that depended upon her, and that she felt responsible for, no other one besides her own.

Until now.

Telling Hannibal Lecter that she was carrying his child was impossible, and potentially more dangerous than anything she had ever done before. The fact that it was not just her life that she needed to protect was terrifying. Although she had had doubts and concerns since they started their new lives together, she had found herself able to rationalise them and reassure herself, and even create a contingency plan should the worst ever happen, and Hannibal’s identity be discovered and, by association, hers. But none of that seemed to matter now, and it suddenly all seemed impossible.

Because the moment she found out she was still pregnant, that the child she thought she had lost before she knew of its existence had somehow miraculously survived, she felt a strong, indescribably bond to it, a duty, an overwhelming desire to protect it, nurture it, and keep it safe. And that did not – could not – involve Hannibal Lecter. The fact that she needed to see him literally imprinted with the image of the devil to come to that realisation was both terrifying and unbelievable. And yet, here she was.

The sound of an opening door drew Bedelia from her increasingly frightening thoughts, and she found herself instinctively turning towards the noise, her gaze focused upon Anthony Dimmond as he entered the room. 

Every fear, every concern and every certainty she had ever felt about Hannibal suddenly seemed so real and so justified, and the urge she felt to leave had never been as strong or as demanding as it was right now. 

“Betrayal, hanging, self-destruction” Hannibal said confidently, giving each word the necessary weight as he uttered it, a weight which Bedelia felt was being dropped on her from an impossibly great height. He held her gaze as he spoke, and she felt as though he was looking straight into her, deep into her mind and her soul. “I make my own home be my gallows” he added, his gaze never wavering.

The moment Hannibal did eventually break her gaze, Bedelia blinked twice, as though coming out of a trance. She reached down with a trembling hand and reached for her bag, before quickly rising to her feet and hurrying out of the studiolo, her heels never hitting the ground as she fled.  
By the time Hannibal looked back towards her seat, she was gone.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue in this chapter is directly quoted from S3 E1 of Hannibal, which obviously is not my own.

After hurrying out of the studiolo, Bedelia ran down the staircase, holding onto the bannister and allowing herself a single furtive glance behind her, before rushing out of the building. The lecture would be over soon, so she did not have much time.

She felt as though she were in a trance as she moved, and yet there was an almost reassuring clarity to her thoughts. Although she was plagued with fear and doubt, her instincts had told her to flee, and she felt compelled to heed their warning. 

She thought she understood him, better than he believed she did, and enough to enable her to survive him. But the combination of his recklessness and the subject matter of the lecture, together with the starting revelation that she was carrying his child, caused her to realise how wrong she was. And as he stood in the shadows of the monster she began to realise not only the extent of her arrogance and naivety, but the potentially devastating consequences of it.

As she reached the bottom of the staircase Bedelia ran, and she did not stop running until she was out of the building and standing in the street, the cold dusk air providing her with most welcome respite. She felt hot and light-headed, and she rose a trembling hand to hail an oncoming taxi, which to her relief stopped immediately. She exhaled sharply and opened the door with an unsteady hand, giving the driver instructions in hurried Italian as she eased herself into the backseat and closed the door firmly behind her.

As soon as the car started to move, Bedelia’s felt a sudden wave of relief, and she inhaled deeply before releasing a slow breath. She held her coat and her bag on her lap, bunching the material of her coat in her hands as she stared ahead, impatiently willing the taxi to go faster, whilst simultaneously attempting to suppress the thoughts and fears which were currently waging war in her mind.

After enduring ten minutes of traffic due to an inopportune motorcycle accident, Bedelia found herself feeling panicked and ever more on edge as she already had been as the taxi driver finally pulled up outside the apartment. 

Bedelia felt both fearful and exhilarated as she got out of the taxi, paying the driver and then offering him a shockingly high tip to wait a few minutes for her to return, and then drive her to the nearest airport. She left him quickly in a flurry of hastily spoken thanks and reassurances, as she hurried up the staircase and into the apartment, closing the door firmly behind her.

Bedelia held her coat and her bag and pressed the button for the elevator, which did precisely nothing. She sighed in annoyance and pressed the button three more times but without result, her frustration causing her to feel almost tearful. Realising that she had little to no time to spare, Bedelia abandoned her hopes of the elevator, which had been temperamental at best throughout their occupation of the building, and hurried towards the staircase.

Ignoring the feeling of dizziness which threatened to overwhelm her, Bedelia held onto the bannister and ran up the staircase as quickly as she could, her anxiety increasing with each step. When she finally reached the door to the apartment, it took her what felt like an eternity to find her keys, and her trembling hands were most unhelpful in her attempts to open the door. When she finally managed it, she could feel tears of exasperation burning in her eyes, which she ignored along with her dizziness as she walked hurried through the apartment and into her bedroom.

Bedelia dropped her coat and bag on the bed and walked briskly towards her wardrobe, picking up the brown leather holdall with both hands and placing it on the bed. She unzipped it and quickly ascertained that everything she required was contained within, and nothing had been tampered with or removed. Sighing in relief, she quickly removed her passport and that of Lydia Fell and placed them into her handbag, before zipping up the holdall. She cast a glance around the room and paused for a moment, calming herself enough to mentally review the contents of the holdall consider whether there was anything else she needed. She quickly decided she did not and put on her coat and reached for the holdall, when the sight of her black handbag prompted her to recall something which she also required.

Inhaling sharply, Bedelia hurried back towards her wardrobe and surveyed her collection of designer handbags, quickly identifying the one she required and removing it from its place. She opened it quickly and was relieved to have remembered its significance, as she removed the leaflets which Dr Romano had provided her concerning pregnancy. She could not leave any evidence in the apartment which could indicate her condition to Hannibal; she had no doubt that he would be furious for her desertion, but if he discovered her pregnancy he would be angrier still, and it would provide him with the strongest possible motive to come after her, which she wanted to avoid at all costs. For her baby’s sake as well as her own. Bedelia placed the leaflets into her handbag and quickly closed it, leaving the clutch bag on the bed as she picked up the brown leather holdall and her handbag and walked briskly out of the room. 

The weight of the holdall impeded Bedelia’s movements, making it impossible for her to run, but she defied her trembling body’s demands that she slowed down and walked as quickly as she could through the apartment. She could feel her heart beating hard and fast against her chest and hear the blood pounding in her ears, which she also chose to ignore, as she found herself getting closer and closer to the door. However, Bedelia’s already prevalent anxiety increased tenfold by the time she reached the door, as the doorknob began to turn.

Bedelia gasped, her stomach dropping as fear and devastation cascaded over her in torturous waves. She took several steps backwards instinctively and then froze as the door slowly began to open. She could feel her palms begin to sweat as she gripped the handles of her holdall and handbag tightly, and a strong wave of nausea overcame her. 

Her breath caught in her throat and she swallowed hard as Hannibal stepped into the room, his eyes focusing first on the bags she was holding, and then drifting slowly up her body. Bedelia was struck by the curious look in his eyes, which was a combination of weariness, disappointment and anger. His expression was dark and there was something very menacing about his countenance which caused her to freeze to the spot, like an injured animal being approached by a lion. Despite her fear, she found herself thinking with a startling clarity, and it occurred to her that perhaps this was how Hannibal looked when he removed his person suit completely. As his eyes drifted up and met hers for the briefest of moments, she found herself returning his look with a defiantly confident gaze which was in no way a reflection of how she truly felt. For she had never felt closer to death than she did in that moment.

Bedelia was momentarily distracted by Anthony Dimmond, who walked wordlessly past her, glancing at her holding her bags but barely acknowledging her presence. She heard his footsteps behind her suddenly stop, and she remained frozen to the spot as Hannibal slowly closed the door behind himself, the click of the lock seeming frighteningly final, which Bedelia knew it was. Because there was no question that Anthony Dimmond would not be leaving the apartment alive.  
And possibly neither would she.

As Hannibal locked the door and turned on the spot, Bedelia found herself watching him, her eyes drifting to that curious expression he wore which unsettled her deeply. She wondered who he would kill first, herself or Anthony, and quickly deduced that it would be Anthony. He would probably taunt her with his murder as a punishment for her attempted transgression. He would almost certainly be curious as to what would happen, how she would react, what she would do. 

Hannibal walked behind Bedelia, his eyes breaking her gaze only as he disappeared behind her. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and her hands became so clammy she could no longer hold the bags, especially the leather holdall, which seemed to be feeling heavier by the moment. She dropped them to the ground with a dull thump, which prompted Mr Dimmond to turn towards her for a moment, before returning his attentions to a piece of artwork in front of him. Bedelia was staring at the locked door, knowing she would not be able to unlock it and leave before Hannibal stopped her, and she felt cold fear overcome her almost completely. She was only drawn from her stupor by the sound of Hannibal’s voice, which was eerily calm.

“Shall I hang up your coat, Mr Dimmond?” Hannibal offered politely, as he walked from behind Bedelia towards Mr Dimmond. 

Bedelia tilted her head slightly and watched Hannibal walk towards their guest, who turned towards him instinctively and began to remove his coat. Bedelia’s eyes drifted towards the white porcelain figure which Hannibal was concealing in his right hand behind his back, her eyes widening just a moment before it happened.

As Anthony Dimmond lifted the fabric of the coat from his shoulders to begin removing it, Hannibal utilised his moment of vulnerability by bringing down the phrenology bust hard upon his head, causing him to fall to the ground with a heavy thump. Bedelia looked down upon the fallen man, who was stunned and squinting as blood from the deep wound to his temple poured into his eyes. The gargling noise he made suggested that the blood was also running down his throat, and threatening to choke him, certainly debilitating him enough so that he could not even attempt to rise to his feet. Bedelia’s shock at the sight before her was offset by a sudden thought which frightened her, shocking her to her core: how could he have been so stupid to come here, tonight, alone?

Bedelia stared at Anthony Dimmond, watching as he lay on his front and attempted to make the perilous journey to the front door of the apartment by dragging himself towards it. She almost pitied him; not only would Hannibal not allow him to reach it, but it was locked even if he did. He was in no position to cry out or shout for help, and even if he did no one would hear him, Hannibal had chosen this place for its solitude. Although he did not realise it yet, he was already dead. He died the moment he foolishly accompanied Hannibal back to the apartment.

Bedelia found herself watching Anthony as he moved with a combination of pity and macabre curiosity, as she remained frozen to the spot. Her attentions were slightly distracted by Hannibal, who walked calmly towards her and placed the bloodied phrenology bust back in its original place, as she stared at the injured man in front of her, who was trailing a considerable amount of blood along the floor as he desperately tried to flee. She reasoned that head wounds were prone to bleed heavily, and she found herself wondering – hoping, even – that he would pass out soon. It would be far better for him if he did.

“Observe or participate?” Hannibal asked, his voice curious, his tone matching his dark expression. It took Bedelia a few moments to realise he was addressing her. He removed his coat and stared at her with weary disapproval.

“What?” she asked, her voice quiet and somewhat absent, as she tried to focus upon him once more. 

Hannibal was staring at her with a dark, menacing expression, and his eyes were almost black. She had no doubt that he had removed his person suit, and was now standing true and bare before her. It was terrifying. For whilst she had been aware of Hannibal’s activities, she had never been a witness before. And this, as he seemed to be reminding her, was putting her in the position of an accomplice. Perhaps that was why he brought Dimmond back here instead of quietly breaking his neck in the studiolo whilst everyone else had left. He wanted to kill two birds with one stone. 

And she was both the bird and the stone.

“Are you, in this very moment, observing or participating?” he clarified, his tone just as unsettling as it had been before.

Bedelia tried to think clearly, to process exactly what he was asking – or, more specifically, what he was suggesting – and answer accordingly. She was here, in this room, she was present, but she had no control over what Hannibal was doing. As she had recently reminded him, she was aware of being in control of her own actions, and she still was. But she certainly could not control his.

“Observing” she responded, her voice quiet and barely above a whisper. Hannibal stared at her with a challenging expression.

“You say you are observing, but this is participation, Bedelia” Hannibal accused, his eyes holding his gaze. “Did you know what he would do?” he asked, stepping over a blood-stained floorboard and walking towards her, his eyes dark and his jaw set, as he held her gaze. He closed the distance between them and Bedelia felt herself tremble. 

Bedelia was shocked and dazed, and uncertain of precisely how to respond, so she hesitated. His increasingly close proximity did little to assist her in regaining control of herself and her thoughts, much less concentrate on the matter in hand. He was now barely inches away from her. She could smell his cologne, which mingled with the metallic scent of blood which her heightened senses made her acutely aware of. It was so strong she could taste it. 

“I would prefer that you answer honestly” Hannibal prompted. Bedelia inhaled sharply and her voice wavered, as she acceded to his request.

“I was curious” Bedelia said breathlessly, the realisation startling her almost as much as the sound of her voice, which was much unlike her own. 

“You were curious about what would happen” Hannibal expanded. “You were curious about what Mr Dimmond would do” he stated. “What I would do?” he persisted. His tone was one of accusation, and he was radiating disapproval. Bedelia saw this line of questioning for precisely what it was – a reprimand, a punishment, a reminder that she was far from an innocent bystander in all of this, despite what she tried to convince herself. “Did you anticipate our thoughts, counter-thoughts, rationalisations?” he asked.

Bedelia, who found herself on the brink of a panic attack as she experienced thoughts, feelings and doubts which she had not felt since the night her patient died, tried to draw herself out of her stupor and think logically and rationally to answer Hannibal’s question. From her single encounter with Mr Dimmond she had judged him to be an arrogant opportunist, and his knowledge of the true Dr Fell meant he was certainly a threat; there was no doubt in her mind how he would react if he discovered her and Hannibal’s secret, and his presence here seemed to confirm that. She knew what kind of man Anthony Dimmond was, and she knew what kind of man Hannibal was: highly intelligent, incredibly perceptive, and unspeakably dangerous.

“Yes” she answered honestly, her voice trembling, as her breath caught in her throat. Hannibal seemed to be thriving off her answers, watching her with a dark sense of satisfaction and victory.

“Is this what you expected?” he asked, turning slightly to the side as though daring Bedelia to look, as her revealed the choking, bleeding, helpless shell of a man who was still dragging himself towards the front door in one last desperate attempt to escape. A vain one.

Bedelia considered his question as carefully as she could, though it was one she had already anticipated, as well as its implications. She knew precisely where Hannibal was going with this line of questioning, and whilst she wants to disagree with his impending hypothesis on a personal level, objectively and professionally she does not. In fact, she agrees with him. Her eyes fill with tears at the knowledge of this truth, and how complicit she had truly become in Hannibal’s crimes.  
“Yes” she responded tearfully.  
There had been no doubt in her mind that Anthony Dimmond was a threat, and that Hannibal would deal with him accordingly. She just had not anticipated that she would be present when he did. She had mentally consoled herself that he had sealed his own fate, that his death was unavoidable and unpreventable, certainly by her, that there was nothing she could do to prevent it. But as Hannibal stared at her, the darkness in his eyes and his dangerously close proximity to her made her feel frightened of him – truly frightened – for the first time. Her thoughts drifted instinctively towards her baby – their baby – which was directly between them, and the danger she had placed it in. Although her instincts were telling her to keep its existence a secret, would revealing the truth be the only option she had to save her baby’s life? To save both of their lives? For now, at least.  
“That’s participation” Hannibal announced, his voice low and his tone sinister.  
Bedelia’s eyes swam with tears and her bottom lip trembled, as she anguished over what she should do.  
Thankfully, Hannibal was provided with a distraction by the ailing Mr Dimmond, who made a pitiful choking sound as the blood in his throat continued to affect his breathing. To Bedelia’s surprise he had somehow managed to reach the front door and was reaching upwards, which was both pitiful and devastating. She watched as Hannibal turned on the spot and walked calmly towards Mr Dimmond, standing over him with one leg either side, and then reaching down towards him. Bedelia remained frozen to the spot and watched as Hannibal placed both of his hands beneath Mr Dimmond’s chin and pulled back forcefully, breaking his neck with a sickening crunch, and causing his body to fall lifelessly to the ground.  
Bedelia gasped and felt a single tear run down her face, her entire body trembling as she battled to regain her composure. She watched as Hannibal removed a silk handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned his hands as he began to walk slowly towards her.  
“What have you gotten yourself into, Bedelia?” Hannibal taunted.  
Bedelia found herself starting to cry, and powerless to prevent it, her breathing becoming unsteady as her entire body trembled. She had let her baby down very badly, and had placed it in the most unforgiveable danger for which she could see no way out. Because Hannibal was right, and this macabre demonstration reminded her most painfully of that; she may not have carried out any murders herself, but she was complicit, and in some ways she was just as guilty as he was. Was this the kind of world she wanted to bring her baby into? And what would a child with parents such as them grown up to become?  
Bedelia felt Hannibal staring at her, and she looked up at him with wide eyes and a dazed expression, as he returned her gaze with anger, his expression dark and his eyes ablaze.  
“Shall I hang up your coat?” he asked, repeating the words he had spoken to Mr Dimmond just minutes before.  
It took Bedelia a few moments to comprehend what he was saying, and by the time she understood the sinister implications of what he had said she found herself too afraid and too stunned to do anything other than precisely what he said. Because it was the only chance her baby had.  
Bedelia weakly began to remove her coat, feeling Hannibal behind her as she lowered the garment from her shoulders just as Anthony Dimmond had started to do. And yet, to her relief, she felt Hannibal assist her with her coat, removing it from her body with a gentleness which surprised her. She was shaking and crying and trying to calm her breathing, and in her moment of weakness she felt the truth about her condition form into words upon her lips, and she almost uttered them as Hannibal carried her coat towards the coat-stand.  
Bedelia’s hand moved instinctively towards her belly, her palm warm as her fingers splayed across her lower abdomen, the secrets it held being concealed by control underwear which she had put on in order to ensure there was no evidence of her pregnancy, and nothing which could make Hannibal even suspect she was carrying his child. Bedelia was so distracted by her thoughts that she barely noticed Hannibal turn towards her, and she lowered her hand from her belly just in time, as he faced her and began to walk towards her once more.  
“Ae you still determined to leave?” Hannibal asked, his eyes still dark, but his tone more curious than angry. Though he still exuded disappointment from every fibre of his being. “I see you packed in advance” he remarked. Bedelia swallowed hard and shook her head. Hannibal titled his head to the side slightly and watched her with grim satisfaction. “Would you like to see how I dispose of the body?” he asked, lowering his voice to a taunting whisper. Bedelia felt bile rose in her throat and she shook her head once more.  
“No” she breathed, her breath catching in her throat once more, as fresh tears burned in her eyes.  
Hannibal stared at Bedelia for several moments, stepping closer to her so they were just inches apart, before crouching down in front of her. Bedelia gasped and then pursed her lips, attempting to calm herself as Hannibal picked up her bags with ease and then rose to his full height before her once more. She blinked back the hot tears which threatened to fall and met his gaze with as confident an expression as she could muster.  
“Then I will take your bags to your bedroom for you, and you can unpack your things” Hannibal replied, a steely edge in his commanding tone. “Whilst I deal with what remains of Mr Dimmond, and clean up the mess” he said calmly, taking a single step closer towards her. It took everything Bedelia had not to step back. “It won’t take long, of course” he stated easily, his eyes holding her gaze as he spoke, his breath hot on her cheek as he was standing so close. “I have had lots of practice.”  
Bedelia inhaled sharply and felt tears fall down her cheeks, which Hannibal pointedly ignored, as he carried her bags calmly towards the bedroom. Bedelia turned once more towards the body of Mr Dimmond, before turning on her heel and following Hannibal mechanically towards the bedroom, her mind ablaze as fear overwhelmed her almost completely. Hannibal was right, she was participating, she was complicit, despite the fact that she had so desperately attempted to convince herself otherwise. Whilst Hannibal was damned, and she had damned herself, she was adamant that their baby would not suffer the same fate. Though she feared the only choices she had to avoid such a thing were so painful and so frightening that they felt almost impossible, but she had to decide, and decide quickly, as she running out of time. Especially if she were to choose the first option – one she had immediately discounted as she desperately wanted her baby to live, and was prepared to make great sacrifices to ensure it.  
But as Bedelia stepped into the bedroom and watched Hannibal place her bags onto the bed, she found herself wondering whether the sacrifices she could make for her child – their child – would ever be enough.  
Or whether, like its parents, their child too would be damned. Destined to damnation before it was born, condemned for its very existence, for living.  
So perhaps the kindest thing – the right thing - would be to prevent it from ever living at all.


	17. Chapter 17

Bedelia followed Hannibal wordlessly towards their bedroom, stopping once she stepped over the threshold and watched him lift the heavy leather holdall with ease and place it effortlessly down upon the bed. She imagined him doing the same with the body of Anthony Dimmond and suppressed a shudder. She remained frozen on the spot, her eyes stinging with tears that she was too stunned to allow to fall. When Hannibal turned towards her she continued to stare fixedly at her luggage on the bed, her gaze never faltering, even as he moved about the room. It was only when he was standing in front of her that she blinked herself out of her stupor and looked up at him with nervous expectancy. Her eyes drifted from his dark expression to the clothing which was draped over his left forearm, and she looked back up to meet his gaze with an inquisitive stare.

“I will take care of Mr Dimmond” Hannibal said calmly, in a tone akin to one he might use when announcing the time, “and then I think it would be best if I stayed in the guest bedroom” he informed her. 

Bedelia’s bottom lip trembled and she closed her mouth, swallowing hard and trying to suppress her rising emotions. She found herself feeling relieved by both the promise of his absence and the space it would afford her, as well as the fact that it indicated he was not intending to kill her. At least, not yet. But that would probably change if he found out that she was carrying his child, and certainly if he realised what she was now considering doing to it. Bedelia ignored a strong feeling of nausea and nodded simply in understanding. 

Hannibal hesitated for a moment, staring at Bedelia, who was quite clearly in shock. He had not seen her in such a state since the evening he came to her house following the death of her patient. The main difference being that, on this occasion, she had less blood on her, both literally and figuratively.

Hannibal suppressed a small smile at the memory and took a step forward, somewhat surprised that she did not flinch as he stood so closely to her their chests touched. He then leaned forward and kissed her on her right cheek, over the top of the blood of Anthony Dimmond, which stained her alabaster skin, and made her appear even paler, if such a thing was possible. And apparently it was. Hannibal allowed his lips to linger upon her skin, the tantalising combination of the metallic blood and Bedelia’s natural, intoxicating taste causing his heart to race. He felt Bedelia inhale sharply, and he smiled against her skin.

“You’re very pale, Bedelia” Hannibal remarked, whispering the words into her ear, her curls tickling his skin, which was an oddly pleasing sensation. “You should get some sleep” he added, an instruction more than a suggestion. And yet there was care in his voice, and Bedelia was surprised by it. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight” Bedelia replied mechanically, as a single tear rolled down her cheek. 

Hannibal brushed Bedelia’s tear away with his thumb and kissed her tenderly upon the lips, before walking calmly away from her and leaving the room. It was only when Bedelia heard the door close behind her that she allowed herself to fall apart, clamping her hand to her mouth and collapsing onto the bed, clenching her jaws and eyes tightly shut, and trying not to scream. 

Bedelia sat on the bed for several minutes as she calmed herself, regulating her breathing to prevent further descent into panic, which was the last thing she wanted. She needed to think, and after several minutes, she found herself feeling considerably calmer, and able to think with an almost frightening clarity.

Hannibal had murdered Anthony Dimmond, whose body was just a few rooms away. Hannibal would dispose of the body and remove any and all evidence of what had transpired her tonight. Whilst she had been an involuntary witness to the former, she would thankfully not have to participate in the latter, despite Hannibal’s request, which she was quite confident was borne out of curiosity; he wanted to see not only what she would say, but how she would react. There was little doubt in her mind he had enjoyed every minute of it.   
Whilst there was much she needed to consider – primarily the fate of her pregnancy and her own safety - there was little she could do about either right now. Whilst her mind was plagued with uncertainties, one thing seemed quite clear; Hannibal Lecter had no intention of killing her tonight. And, possibly, not any time soon either. If he had intended to kill her, it would have made sense to do it moments after he murdered Anthony Dimmond; there would have only been one crime scene to clean, and there was no doubt in her mind he could have disposed of both of their bodies with the same ease as one. And in practical terms, it would have made more sense to get rid of them both, had that been his intention: he could have claimed she had run away with Dimmond, a former student of his who she would have undoubtedly had a previous acquaintance with. Social politeness and a desire to avoid scandal would have prevented too many questions being asked, and no one would have any reason to doubt the story, much less question it. She wondered whether Hannibal had considered such a scenario.

Of course he had.

And yet, here she was, alive. Despite all the odds – despite him catching her trying to flee. He had not asked her many questions about it, which she suspected was due to the fact that he already knew the majority of the answers, and was, of course, otherwise engaged at the moment. The fact that he announced his intention to take up the spare room as his own had surprised her somewhat. Was it a test of some kind? Or did he simply not wish to be around her?

Bedelia felt too tired and too shaken to consider such matters in any depth at present, and she quickly diagnosed herself as suffering from shock. It was only now, after several minutes of thought and attempts to calm herself and think logically, that she realised that her right hand was cradling her belly in an almost protective manner. She trembled and swallowed hard, before moving her hand away as though her skin had burned her, and missing the contact almost immediately. She ignored a strong instinct to return her hand to her belly, a gesture which she now realised had soothed and comforted her more than she cared to admit. Instead, she looked up from her belly and glanced towards the window, refusing to glance down or even acknowledge her current condition. 

Because she did not intend for it to be current for much longer.

In order to prevent herself from losing the self-control and calmness she had so valiantly battled to attain, Bedelia rose unsteadily to her feet and made her way towards the holdall, which she unzipped slowly. She then began to remove the contents mechanically, laying them out upon the bed in the relevant sections, before putting them away. She is vaguely aware of the sound of music from the apartment, and Hannibal’s movements, though she tries not to speculate as to what those movements are. Instead, she put away all of her belongings and returned the now empty holdall to the bottom of her wardrobe, before selecting a pair of pyjamas and walking slowly into the bathroom. As she glanced in the mirror, her attention immediately befell the bright crimson blood which stained her bleached skin, and she felt bile rise in her throat, as tears burned her eyes once more.

Bedelia spent over an hour in the shower, scrubbing her skin almost raw in a desperate attempt to cleanse herself of this terrible night. When she emerged from the shower she felt clean but tired, weary from fear and from crying, and desperate to simply fall into bed and allow her body and mind to recover. She also wanted desperately to escape from consciousness in order to avoid all thoughts concerning her encounter with Hannibal and Mr Dimmond’s death, but also from the decision she had made regarding her pregnancy.

Inhaling a staggered breath and refusing to allow herself to acknowledge, much less indulge, the emotions which such a decision brought to the surface, Bedelia walked sadly towards her dressing table and sat down upon the chair. She spent the next twenty minutes drying her hair and undertaking her nightly skincare ritual, the routine of which calmed her considerably, though she knew it would not be for long. She then changed into a black silk nightdress and black kimono embroidered with roses, which she wrapped around herself, feeling suddenly rather cold. 

Bedelia turned out all of the lights and crawled into bed, feeling physically and emotionally exhausted, despite the fact that it was barely ten o’clock. Although she was incredibly tired, the sound of Hannibal’s moving around the apartment, and her mind’s cruel taunts concerning the nature of those movements, rendered her incapable of sleep. Indeed, it was only after two torturous hours that her body finally succumbed to slumber, just minutes after she heard Hannibal leave the apartment. And even when sleep came, it was not the deep, recuperative kind that she yearned for so desperately.

Instead, Bedelia slept fitfully, and suffered nightmares concerning Mr Dimmond’s death which plagued her several times an hour. She never got more than forty-five minutes of continuous sleep, her mind pulling her harshly from the rest that she so desperately needed, and plunging her straight back into the depths of the nightmare she had endured the night before. But it was not a nightmare that woke Bedelia the final time, and dragged her cruelly from her sleep and forced her to confront the morning.

Instead, it was a strong sensation of nausea that caused Bedelia to throw her covers aside and run into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time to be violently sick.   
Bedelia clung to the edge of the toilet with trembling hands as she vomited, her body purging herself so thoroughly that she felt bile burn the back of her throat. After several minutes, once she was satisfied that the sickness had abated, she closed the lid of the toilet and pulled the flush, before resting her head on her arm and closing her eyes once more. 

Less than ten minutes later, the coldness of the room drew Bedelia sharply from her sleep, and she woke with a feeling of panic. Rising to her feet at a speed which caused her to become dizzy and immediately regret her haste, Bedelia reached out for the nearest wall to steady herself, before standing perfectly still and staring into the bedroom. She quickly remembered that Hannibal had announced his intentions to spend the night in the guest bedroom, and she was confident that he had done so, as he had not returned to their room since he left it last night. She also quickly reassured herself that he had not come into the bathroom and discovered her being sick, as she knew that not only would he be curious and concerned about her, despite the events of the night before, but he would not have left her asleep in the bathroom; he would have considered it ungentlemanly and bordering on rude.

Allowing herself to bask in the relief that her realisations provided, Bedelia brushed her teeth and then walked slowly back into her bedroom and headed towards her dressing table. After consulting her wristwatch and discovering that it was currently seven o’clock in the morning, she sat down slowly at her dressing table and stared at her reflection. She knew that there would be many battles she would face today, challenges she must confront head-on, with Hannibal being not the least of them. And she could not do so unless she was properly armed.

Bedelia therefore spent the next twenty minutes applying her make-up, to conceal both her tiredness and her terror, and then arranging her hair into loose curls. She then headed towards her wardrobe, selecting a dark blue pencil skirt and white blouse which she felt confident would conceal the small swell at the base of her abdomen, which she had only recently realised was not attributable to pastry but to maternity, a matter which she attempted to ignore for the moment. She had to, because the only alternative she had was to fall apart completely.

After changing into her outfit and selecting a pair of three inch black Laboutins, Bedelia inhaled deeply to compose herself, before releasing her breath slowly and making her way across her bedroom and towards the door. She placed a trembling hand upon the doorknob and turned it slowly, before opening the door and stepping out of the room with a disarming confidence which she quickly realised was unwarranted.

Because Hannibal Lecter was not in the apartment.

Bedelia paused for a moment, listening carefully into the darkness. She felt Hannibal’s absence almost as strongly as her own heartbeat, the emptiness of the apartment striking her almost immediately. Hannibal was an early riser, and even the inconvenience of having to dispose of a body late the night before would not have altered his routine. 

Despite feeling confident that he was not in the apartment, Bedelia searched it nonetheless, first examining the large open plan living and dining areas, walking past the open door to the guest room which was empty, and then heading towards the kitchen and then his study. As Bedelia walked towards the front of the apartment, her attentions befell the floorboards beneath her feet, which had been saturated in blood only hours before. And yet now, they were scrubbed clean, the light scents of bleach and pine cleaner replacing the heavy metallic taste which hung heavily in the air. Bedelia spent several minutes inspecting the former crime scene, and was almost startled by how thoroughly Hannibal had cleaned the apartment, which now bore no evidence of what had transpired the night before. Though her surprise soon turned into a sense of unsettlement, as his words form the night before returned to her: “I have had lots of practice”. Bedelia suppressed a shudder.

As she was about to head back into the heart of the apartment, Bedelia’s attentions were drawn to a piece of folded paper, which was being held in place by a phrenology bust. The porcelain murder weapon, which bore no signs of blood or damage, seemed the most inappropriate paperweight, and she reasoned that that was why he had chosen it. Bedelia walked towards the paper and lifted it up, her eyes befalling the familiar sight of Hannibal’s handwriting, in a brief missive which was addressed to her.

“Bedelia,  
A matter has arisen that requires my immediate attention, though not the kind of attention which was required last night. I will be out of the city for at least a day, and will return either late tonight or early tomorrow morning.  
Whilst I hope you will still be here when I return, I will not try to stop you if you choose to leave.  
My apologies for not discussing this with you directly, but I did not wish to disturb your rest.  
With affection,  
Hannibal.”

Bedelia read the letter twice and then stared at it for several moments, feeling both stunned and relieved. Although her immediate thoughts were that this was simply a test, she found herself quickly realising that it was anything but simple. Although the opportunity to escape had been something she had longed for and even attempted the night before, the events of last night had changed everything, which she knew as well as him.

“Observe or participate?” echoed Hannibal’s words in her mind. “This is participation” he had informed her, quite confidently. And quite correctly, too. “What have you gotten yourself into Bedelia?”

Hannibal’s letter was not a test or even the prospect at an opportunity to leave without fear of retribution. What Hannibal intended it to be, and what Bedelia recognised, was something far more sinister.

It was a reminder. A reminder that they were not only liable for his crimes in a legal sense, but in a moral one too. They were both participants, and they were therefore both damned. Although she had considered such a notion many times, she had previously been able to discount it, and convince herself that she was simply an observer, a presence, that she was not directly or indirectly responsible for anything that Hannibal did. But last night made her realise how wrong she was. And this realisation had caused her to realise that it was not just herself whom she had damned. 

Bedelia lowered the paper with a trembling hand, and screwed it up tightly in her right hand, before walking mechanically into her bedroom. 

After recovering her handbag from the bedroom, Bedelia carried it into the living room and sat in an armchair next to the fireplace, before dropping Hannibal’s letter into the grate and setting it alight. She then removed her phone and the business card she required from her bag and dialled the unfamiliar number, staring into the small flame which burned brightly, before extinguishing just as the phone was answered.

“Good morning, this is Lydia Fell” Bedelia began, speaking Italian and feigning confidence. “May I speak with Dr Romano, please?” she politely enquired. “Yes, I’ll hold” she added.   
Bedelia waited for an agonising two minutes until the familiar voice of Dr Romano greeted her.

“Signora Fell, good morning” the older woman greeted pleasantly. “Are you well?” she asked, concern present in her tone. 

“I’m fine, thank you” Bedelia responded slowly, trying to grasp at the composure which was quickly escaping her. 

“I’m glad to hear it, Signora” the doctor returned sincerely. “Did you wish to discuss the doctors I recommended to you for your pre-natal care?” she asked. Bedelia’s bottom lip trembled and she felt tears burn in her eyes, which she blinked back furiously. “For expectant mothers of your-”

“No, Dr Romano, that’s not why I called” Bedelia interrupted, her voice adopting a cool and almost clinical edge, utterly avoid of all emotion. The sudden change in tone startled Dr Romano, who remained silent and waited for her to continue. “I need to arrange a termination” she informed her, ignoring how wrong the words sounded and felt as she uttered them, and blinking through her hot tears defiantly. “And it has to be today.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,  
> Thank you for reading this story, and for your patience and support. The next few chapters are going to be much more eventful, and I promise Hannibal will find out soon. I just felt it was appropriate and realistic that Bedelia would analyse (and over-analyse) her pregnancy and her options fully and completely, which is something I was keen to explore.  
> Your comments, feedback and advice are all greatly appreciated. I find Bedelia incredibly difficult to write, so any feedback is immensely helpful.  
> Thank you again,  
> HQ21

Bedelia gripped the phone tightly and defiantly blinked back the tears which burned in her eyes. The doctor had not responded for a few seconds, and she was about to say her name, when she finally spoke.

“Are you sure, Signora?” Dr Romano asked slowly, confusion and surprise evident in her tone.

“Yes” Bedelia responded immediately, ignoring her the protests of her body and her heart. She choked on her reply and she felt dizzy with guilt, but she persisted. “Yes, I’m sure” she continued, her voice adopting a more confident tone as she spoke. “I need it done as soon as possible” she added.

“Signora Fell” Dr Romano said slowly, trepidation present in her voice. “May I call you Lydia?” she asked kindly. Bedelia swallowed hard.

“Yes” she responded, utilising the brief pause to compose herself.

“Lydia, you sound upset” she said gently. Bedelia’s bottom lip trembled and she clenched her jaw defiantly. “Why don’t you take a few days to consider your options, and I will book you an appointment for later this week and we can discuss-”

“No” Bedelia interrupted. “No, I don’t need a few days, I have made my decision” she stated, detaching herself from the words even as she spoke them. “There is nothing to discuss” she added, her voice becoming cold. And yet Dr Romano’s kindness did not falter.

“Alright, Lydia. It’s alright. I understand” Dr Romano soothed. Bedelia swallowed hard and blinked back the tears which were burning in her eyes. She was quite confident she did not. “If this is what you want, I can make the arrangements for you” she advised. “I can book you an appointment the day after tomorrow at eleven-”

“No, I… I need this to be done today” Bedelia interrupted, trying to keep her voice as calm and as devoid of emotion as she could. “I don’t have much time” she explained. Dr Romano was silent for a moment.

“At fourteen weeks’ pregnant, you do have time, Lydia” Dr Romano said gently. “Not a considerable amount, but a few days certainly won’t-”

“No, no, I can’t” Bedelia responded, becoming emotional as she spoke. Despite her own desires, she knew that she did not have a choice, she had to do this. The fact that Hannibal would be away for the entire day gave her a very narrow window in order to take care of matters without his knowledge. And the fact that she had decided to end the pregnancy despite it not being what she truly wanted meant every moment she continued to be pregnant was utter torture. “I can’t do this” she continued, interrupting the doctor as she began to speak. “I want it out of me” she stated firmly, clamping her hand to her mouth in shock at the callousness of her words and tone. She hadn’t meant it, but it sickened her nonetheless. She closed her eyes tightly and tried desperately not to cry.

“Alright, Lydia” Dr Romano soothed, her voice calm and without judgement. “I have an appointment available at twelve-thirty this afternoon, I can carry out the procedure for you then” she explained. “Because you are fourteen weeks’ pregnant I cannot simply prescribe you with medication for a chemical abortion. The procedure will need to be done surgically” she explained gently. Bedelia nodded in understanding. She knew. “Have you had anything to eat or drink this morning?”

“No” Bedelia responded, her voice quiet and vacant, and most unlike her own.

“When was the last time you ate?” she asked.

“Yesterday, at around five-thirty” Bedelia responded mechanically, as she adjusted her hold upon the phone. Her palms were sweating and her hand was trembling.  
“That’s good” Dr Romano advised. “It’s important that you do not eat or drink anything until after the procedure this afternoon” she explained. “It should take less than an hour, and you will need to stay with us for a couple of hours so we can monitor you as you recover” she continued. “We will also need someone to collect you afterwards” she advised.

“Do you have someone who can pick you up?”

“Yes” Bedelia lied. She had no intention of staying to be monitored, or being collected by someone. They couldn’t stop her from leaving, and she would not allow them to do so.

“Good” Dr Romano replied. “Come to reception at twelve-thirty and ask for me, and I will carry out the procedure for you” she said gently. Bedelia nodded.

“Thank you” Bedelia responded absently. “I’ll see you this afternoon” she added, before hanging up the phone.

After ending her conversation with Dr Romano, the full weight of her words and the arrangements she had made, which had felt wrong and unnatural, hit her with full force. Her bottom lip trembled and she closed her eyes, before clamping her hand to her mouth as she collapsed onto the sofa, and finally allowed herself to cry.

Bedelia clamped her right hand to her mouth and wrapped her left arm instinctively around her abdomen as she wept, grief and guilt and sadness overcoming her completely. 

Despite all of her fears about both Hannibal and the prospect of the child they had created, she did not want an abortion. She wanted to carry this baby – her baby – to term, she wanted to care of it. But the events of last night made it quite clear that that would be impossible. Hannibal was reckless, dangerous and monstrous, and she could not allow such an influence to befall an innocent child; and that was presuming that the child was innocent at all. Because with them as parents, who knew? The nature/nurture debate was a fascinating one, and whilst Bedelia had studied in intensely and with great interest, she found herself unable to reach a solid conclusion. It had concerned her since she had discovered she was pregnant, and she had managed to avoid it almost completely, until last night. When Hannibal stepped into the image of Lucifer, and his body melded with the Devil, something shifted inside her and caused her to become overwhelmed by fear, of both what he was and what their child might be. She had considered Hannibal Lecter to be many things, and she was under no illusions as to how dangerous he was, but it was not until last night that she ever found herself considering him to be evil. Whilst dangerousness was often determined by a person’s actions (which could be limited and subjected to a positive influence, if worked upon from a young age, as she had believed she could with their baby), evil was not something which could be treated, much less cured. It was deep-seated, innate, and very much part of a person’s nature. It was this fear which caused Bedelia to make the heart-breaking decision to terminate her pregnancy.

After allowing herself ten minutes to cry, Bedelia removed her trembling hands from her body, and planted them upon the sofa. She closed her eyes and took in several deep, restorative breaths which she released slowly, as she sat in stunned silence feeling numb and sore from crying. She wiped her tears from her cheeks and swallowed hard, before glancing calmly down at her watch. 

It was almost half-past nine, which meant she had less than three hours before she needed to leave the house.

Ignoring the tightening feeling in the pit of her stomach, Bedelia rose mechanically to her feet and made her way towards the bedroom, her eyes glazed and her expression unreadable as she took each step. She forced herself to consider one simple question with a level of detachment which was bordering on cold.

What did one wear to have an abortion?

Bedelia walked into her bedroom and closed the door behind her, before heading towards her wardrobe and opening the double doors. She ran her fingers through the dresses and outfits before her, and removed several, which she draped over her arm before dropping onto the bed. She sat slowly down next to her selection of dresses, skirts and blouses, which she looked down upon with indifference. She sat perfectly still for several minutes, her hands clasped neatly in her lap, her mind wandering treacherously towards the most forbidden of subjects. It was only when Bedelia felt a hot tear run down her cheek that she forced herself out of her stupor, wiping it away furiously and blinked dazedly, as though emerging from a trance. 

As Bedelia recovered herself, her eyes drifted towards her black handbag, which was on the ground resting against her bedside table. Against her reason and the level of detachment which her mind had forced her to adopt as a desperate attempt at self-preservation, Bedelia lifted her bag up off the ground and rested it on her lap. She then opened it slowly, her gaze quickly befalling the documents she had in mind, which she removed hesitantly with a trembling hand. It was like she had said to Hannibal the night before: she was curious.

Despite the fact that the logically, rational part of her mind was screaming at her not to, Bedelia removed the pamphlets concerning pregnancy which Dr Romano had given her just days before, and found herself opening them. She read them slowly and with great care, taking some time to translate a few of the more unfamiliar Italian words, as she forced herself to persist. The leaflets were brief but informative, explaining the different stages of pregnancy, the side-effects and foetal development. Bedelia was already aware of the majority of the medical information provided, but she read the leaflets nonetheless; although she could not understand why, once she started, she could not stop. Even the final pamphlet, which was aimed at older mothers and detailed the risks of a ‘geriatric’ pregnancy, was something which she read avidly and without pause. But as she read more about the outlined risks, from miscarriage to premature delivery and higher chances of low birth rate and maternal death, she found her resolve wavering, and angry tears burned in her eyes. It seemed cruel that her body would permit the creation of a baby which nature was so adamant should not exist. 

Angered by the injustice of her pregnancy and what she had to do, Bedelia lifted the pamphlets with trembling hands and tore them to pieces, allowing the coloured paper to fall to her lap like oversized confetti. She then reached into her bag and took out her purse, removing the ultrasound image without looking at it, and gathered every scrap of paper concerning her pregnancy, which she carried into the living room.

Bedelia threw the shredded pamphlets into the fireplace and set them alight, watching with satisfaction as they burned, the coloured paper blackening before turning to ash. It was only when her hands began to sweat from the heat of the fire and her anger that she realised she was still holding the ultrasound.

Bedelia’s breath caught in her throat as she looked down at her left hand, which was holding onto the ultrasound picture tightly. The logical part of her mind told her to burn the image – to both conceal it and spare herself further pain – but her treacherous heart would not allow it. Instead, she found herself clinging to the image with a tightness which bordered on desperation, as she turned it over and lifted it towards her gaze.

Bedelia held the ultrasound picture with both hands, the printed image feeling smooth against her fingertips, as she gazed down upon it with barely concealed awe. She had memorised the image the moment she had seen it, involuntarily committing every line, every colour, every shape to her memory. The image was burned more deeply onto her mind than the paper ashes were currently in the grate, and yet she could not take her eyes away from the picture in her hand. Because it was not some grainy, indeterminable image in the centre of a broad expanse of black; it was a clear, distinct, unquestionably definable image of a baby. Her baby.

Bedelia’s bottom lip trembled and tears burned in her eyes as she traced the outline of her child with her forefinger. Each curve, each line, was perfect. The head, the body, the little arms and legs and the tiny hands and feet, and the heart which was displayed clearly in its chest. As she placed her fingertip over the centre of the heart, she found herself remembering the rhythm of the heartbeat when she heard it in the consultation room. It had been loud, clear and strong, the found of the fast-beating heart of a child she believed she had lost before she had even learned of its existence. She had never felt so relieved to have been so wrong. And yet, in a cruel twist of fate which she may have attributed to karma if she believed in such a concept, nature seemed determined to prevent her from having it; it seemed determined to end its existence, to refuse to allow it to continue. And for a heart-breaking moment the night before, Bedelia had decided that it was right. It was not safe to continue with her pregnancy, both due to the threat which Hannibal posed to her, and the danger the combination of their genes caused to their baby. Every time she considered it, each time she tried to desperately convince herself that any child created by herself and Hannibal would be as monstrous as the image of Hannibal in the projection of Lucifer, she told herself that she did not have a choice. Terminating the pregnancy before it could progress any further was not simply the right decision, but the only one she had. It was an act of kindness to whatever monstrous creation was currently residing in her uterus. And yet, as she stared at the ultrasound image, all of those thoughts and fears and uncertainties were replaced by a single, resounding truth.  
It was not a monster, it was a baby. Her baby.

Bedelia slowly stepped back and sat down upon the sofa, staring at the image in her hands. She stared at the ultrasound for almost half an hour, as she sat in perfect silence and tried to figure out what she should do. She found herself feeling a strong desire to call Hannibal, wherever he was, and seek his counsel; despite what had happened the night before, she wanted him here beside her. Despite all of his actions and the decisions he made which frightened her, his confident demeanour and unshakeable manner soothed her, and she wanted him to be here. She needed him. 

After forcing aside such a notion, Bedelia remained frozen to the spot, her heart beating rapidly as she desperately sought a solution. And after what felt like an eternity of contemplation, she found herself becoming increasingly aware of a fact which both relieved and terrified her in equal measure.

She could no more burn the ultrasound image than she could terminate the pregnancy it depicted.

With a trembling hand but without hesitation or doubt, Bedelia picked up her phone and redialled the most recent number, announcing her name and asking the receptionist to put her through to Dr Romano. She was advised that the doctor was in a consultation with a patient and had several back to back appointments. Bedelia remained unfazed as the receptionist asked if she could give her a message.

“Yes, thank you” Bedelia replied, her voice confident and unwavering. “I would like to cancel my appointment at twelve-thirty today” she stated with conviction. “No, I will not need to reschedule” she informed the receptionist, as her eyes drifted down to the ultrasound image in her hand. The words she spoke felt natural now, as though they were truly her own, and they were right. “Please inform Dr Romano that I no longer require the procedure.”


	19. Chapter 19

Bedelia lowered the phone with a trembling hand and let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. After allowing herself a few moments to calm herself, Bedelia found herself experiencing that curious and somehow unnamed emotion, which one experiences after making a decision which every fibre of their being tells them is the right one. Her initial feelings were ones of contentment, confidence and relief, and this reassured her greatly. For in a situation where the best course of action had not yet been decided, it was certainly an achievement to discount at least one of the choices available to her; especially when it was an option which she did not wish to consider, much less choose. Though this fact puzzled her greatly.

Bedelia had never considered herself to be maternal, and had decided decades ago that she would not have children, without actually giving the prospect a considerable amount of thought. She enjoyed her work and the independent lifestyle which her choices afforded her, and her enjoyment of her life had ensured that she had never had to question this decision. Until now.

As she sat on the sofa for a long while, Bedelia found herself considering her reluctance to have an abortion which, objectively, was the simplest and most expedient solution to the matter at hand. She could have had the procedure carried out that very afternoon, returned home to rest and recover, and then remained in her room until she felt certain she would not arouse Hannibal’s suspicions. Even if she were not feeling well enough to greet him once he returned home, he would probably either assume she was upset or asleep, either one of which would ensure that a confrontation would be avoided. It was a perfect solution to an imperfect situation, with only a single flaw.

It was not what she wanted.

And Bedelia had not realised just how much she had not wanted it until she made the appointment.

She remembered making the phone call from Dr Romano, and informing her of her decision and making her instructions quite clear. Each word she had uttered – every syllable – felt forced and unnatural and very, very wrong. She knew it wasn’t what she wanted even as she spoke the words aloud, but at the time she felt she did not have a choice. It was only after having made the appointment itself that she was determined to make sure that she did. Though this decision put her in a position where she had to make another seemingly impossible choice, whilst facing up to the fact which frightened her the most. 

How protective she already felt about the child which was growing inside her, and how her desire to keep it had increased with each hour since she had learned of its existence.  
Bedelia felt her palms begin to sweat, and she placed the phone onto the table and clasped her hands together, resting them in her lap as she considered the dilemma she was currently facing. 

After considerable consideration, Bedelia concluded that she had two options available to her, both of which she had already considered before: tell Hannibal about the baby, or flee the country. Her attempt at the first had been nothing short of disastrous, and she found herself feeling ill-equipped to attempt it again, though the second option seemed utterly impossible, especially given her previous attempt at the first. Hannibal had clearly expressed disappointment in her, though interestingly enough, he had stopped short at actual anger or violence. She wondered whether his decision to spend the entire day away from her was indeed for the reason he confided in his note, or whether it was due to a need to separate himself from her for a way in order to enable him to make a decision about what to do next. Perhaps like her, he was also currently considering their future.

The thought caused Bedelia’s heart to race, and a cold sweat to overcome her, as though someone had just poured a bucket of ice water down upon her. 

After brief consideration, Bedelia came to the conclusion that if Hannibal was truly angry at her for what he considered her betrayal, he would have acted on that anger immediately; or, at least, earlier than before. He could have killed her after he killed Anthony, or even crept into her room as she slept and taken her life, but he did neither. Instead, he left her alone in the apartment, which she could quite easily leave at any time, on either a temporary or permanent basis. Perhaps that was what this was, some kind of test?

The thought caused her curiosity to pique, and Bedelia rose quickly to her feet and walked briskly towards her bedroom, picking up her handbag from the night before and searching through it. She immediately found both her real passport and that of Lydia Fell, and she felt relief flood her almost immediately. Hannibal was either testing her loyalty, or demonstrating that he did not question it at all. Either way, she was alive, and determined to remain so, for her baby’s sake as well as her own.

Bedelia sat down upon her bed, adjusting the pillows behind herself and leaning back into their comforting embrace, as she forced her mind back to the matter at hand. She rested her clasped hands on her belly subconsciously, and quickly became lost in thought, until her gaze drifted towards her belly moments later.

Bedelia unclasped her hands and placed her right hand upon her lower abdomen, stroking the fabric of her dress over it and revealing the modest swell. She had always been toned and very slight, but had noticed a slight change in her weight recently, which she had blamed on the delicious Italian cuisine which she had been indulging in, though she now realised it was attributable to something else entirely. Bedelia cradled the base of her rounded belly in the palm of her hand, and considered herself closely. Although she was confident that her slight weight gain and changing figure would not be noticeable to the majority of people, Hannibal was not the majority, nor was he average; on the contrary, he was extraordinary. And whilst she did not appear visibly pregnant, and could conceal the modest bump she had already developed, she knew that she would be getting bigger, and soon. She was already three and a half months pregnant, and the fact she was slim and small in stature meant that her condition would soon become apparent. And there was no doubt in her mind that Hannibal would be the first to notice.

So whatever she decided to do, whether that was to tell Hannibal or to flee the country, she had to decide quickly, because she was running out of time. 

After several minutes of careful consideration, Bedelia decided she would revert to her original plan, the one she had decided upon before her panicked and hasty decision to flee had been thwarted; she would see how Hannibal acted over the next few weeks before making a decision. If he was becoming increasingly reckless, as she feared, she would leave. If he was exhibiting restraint and showing a desire to embrace and protect their lives here, she would stay, and she would tell him about the baby. She found herself remembering the tickets he had bought for them to attend Madame Butterfly in two weeks’ time, and she decided that she would wait until the night of the opera before making a decision. That would provide her with ample time to consider her options and make more detailed plans to leave, as a precautionary measure. However, this would mean that she would need to conceal her condition from Hannibal for two weeks, which caused her considerable concern. Hiding it from him for a single day had seemed emotionally impossible; a further two weeks would also prove to be a physical dilemma. 

But Bedelia, who was weary and emotional and exhausted from her fitful slumber from the night before, comforted herself with the reminder that Hannibal’s temporary absence meant that it was not something she needed to worry about that day. And so she edged herself down the bed, lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes, as she surrendered herself to slumber once more.

After spending the majority of the day resting, bathing and curled up in front of the fire with a book in a desperate attempt to soothe herself in anticipation of Hannibal’s return, Bedelia retired to bed shortly before midnight, finding herself relieved that she had not had to face him that day. She fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, and found herself enjoying a deep and dreamless sleep.

Having experienced a deep and restorative sleep, Bedelia was drawn from the unconscious by a reason she did not immediately identify, an instinct of sorts which forced her back into consciousness. She opened her eyes slowly and concentrated, remaining perfectly still as she focused all her senses on identifying the reason she had woken, which quickly became apparent.

Against a backdrop of previous silence, the sound of parlour music was coming from within the apartment.   
Bedelia found herself experiencing a sudden feeling of dread, which she quickly forced aside, as she pushed herself up in bed and reached for her watch. She was startled to find that it was just after eleven o’clock, which was considerably later than her usual time of rising. It also meant she had slept for almost eleven hours, which she had not done in years, possibly even decades. 

Bedelia could hear the sounds of movement echoing through the apartment, which was followed by other sounds which quickly identified Hannibal’s current location as being in the kitchen. She remained still and silent for several moments, listening to the familiar sounds of movement, dicing and sizzling, before her senses also detected a new scent. Bedelia could smell toasted bread, eggs, and pork, possibly bacon.

The scent of meat, which she had once adored, caused her stomach to turn suddenly and without restraint. 

Bedelia found herself quickly throwing her duvet aside and rushing into the bathroom, making it to the toilet just in time to be violently sick. The very little food she had managed to consume the day before, which she had struggled to keep down, was removed from her body in less than a minute. After allowing herself a few minutes to recover, Bedelia rose to her feet feeling dizzy and nauseous, flushing the toilet before retreating to the sink to brush her teeth. 

Bedelia looked up in the mirror and released a slow breath as she considered her reflection. Whilst she appeared to be well-rested and her eyes no longer bore the tell-tale signs of exhaustion, she was frighteningly pale, which would certainly arouse Hannibal’s suspicions. After taking a few minutes to calm herself and think clearly, she formulated a plan, which she immediately set in motion.

After leaving the bathroom, Bedelia walked calmly towards the windows and opened them wide, flooding the room with cool, fresh air in a desperate attempt to rid it of the vomit-inducing smell of cooked meat. She applied her make-up with a practiced hand, before styling her hair into loose curls, and applying hairspray and perfume. She then rose to her feet and headed towards her wardrobe, examining her clothing before selecting a conservative Erdem pencil dress in a slimming black, which she paired with champagne-coloured stockings and one of her favourite pairs of black Louboutins.

After changing into her armour, Bedelia found herself feeling both emboldened and more human, and ready to join Hannibal once more behind the veil.

As Bedelia walked out of the bedroom and into the main room of the apartment, she found herself relieved to find that the scent of cooking meat was fast-disappearing, with only remnants of it lingering in the air. She swallowed hard and tried to ignore the nausea-inducing scent, as she walked confidently towards the kitchen, mentally preparing herself for whatever mood Hannibal might be in once she reached him. She felt confident she would be able to tell within seconds, though this knowledge provided her with little comfort or reassurance. Because she knew from experience that with Hannibal, a lot could happen in a few short seconds. Especially in a room which was very much his domain, his sanctum sanctorum. And, technically, his arsenal.

The sound of movement and the scents of toast and eggs and bacon and coffee grew stronger as Bedelia approached the kitchen, and she was relieved to find her nausea abating, despite her anxiety increasing with each step she took. She had no idea whether Hannibal would still be disappointed, or even angry with her, and if so, how those emotions would manifest themselves in his behaviour. But she needed to find out. 

As Bedelia stepped into the kitchen, her eyes drifted towards Hannibal, who was standing in front of the centre of the island arranging what she hoped was streaky bacon next to a toasted breakfast muffin and the most delicate of scrambled eggs. He was wearing a dark shirt which was folded up to his elbows, and she found herself struck by his handsome features, and the dizzying effect he still had upon her. Before she could consider this further, Hannibal looked up and met her gaze with intelligent eyes, his features softening almost imperceptibly, as he offered her a small smile.

“Good morning” Hannibal greeted, standing up straight as he held her gaze. Bedelia was struck by how happy he seemed to see her. And, she admitted privately, relieved. “Have you been awake long?” he asked, considering her closely.

“No” Bedelia admitted, knowing that he would see through her lie, and it would only arouse his suspicions. “Have you been back long?” she asked, surprised by how comfortable she felt talking to him given the nature of the last conversation they had had.

“No” Hannibal returned, his tone conversational, his voice low and pleasant. “I arrived shortly after nine o’clock this morning” he advised. “I presumed you were sleeping and did not wish to disturb you” he explained. Bedelia held his gaze but did not respond. “I did not enter your bedroom” he assured her, prompting her keen eyes to widen slightly. He said ‘her’ bedroom. “I thought you might prefer it if we slept in separate bedrooms from now on. It is healthy to have a space which is completely one’s own” he advised, his eyes not leaving her gaze as he spoke. 

“I agree” Bedelia replied calmly, finding herself relieved at the prospect. Although it might indicate he was unhappy with her attempt at leaving, at least it would make concealing her pregnancy considerably easier. 

Hannibal smiled softly and nodded.

“Would you care for breakfast?” he offered kindly. “The vegetarian option is available” he added with a smile.

Bedelia offered him a tight smile and shook her head.

“No, thank you” she responded politely, as she took a few steps closer to the island, her eyes holding his gaze. “Would you like to talk about yesterday, Hannibal?” she asked softly. Hannibal’s eyes shone.

“I would have thought you might like to talk about the night before” he countered, his analytical gaze studying her, waiting for a reaction. “I half expected to come back to an empty apartment” he remarked. 

“Meaning you believed that I was as likely to leave as I was to remain” Bedelia said slowly. “And here I am” she added. A small smile played on Hannibal’s lips.

“And here you are” Hannibal returned. “I am very glad you chose to stay, Bedelia” he added, sincerity present in his tone. Bedelia found herself smiling in response. “And I understand why you felt you had to leave” he added.

Bedelia felt her stomach drop, as her body was overcome by an uncomfortable heat. Did he know about her pregnancy? Had he discovered her secret? She swallowed hard and held his gaze, her smile never faltering. 

“Do you?” she asked. Hannibal held her gaze.

“Yes” Hannibal responded. “You made me aware of your concerns about my actions, and how those actions could affect both of us” he began. “You were clearly not satisfied with my response to those concerns which, combined with your knowledge of the impending death of Anthony Dimmond, prompted you to act in the best way you felt possible at the time” he assessed. “Fight or flight” he added simply. Bedelia sighed gently.

“You’ll recall I chose fight first, Hannibal” Bedelia countered. “My decision to come here with you, and my choice to remain, are both strong examples of that instinct” she reminded him. “I didn’t leave because I chose the easier option, I left because I felt I had exhausted all previous options and your behaviour gave me no choice” she advised. Hannibal listened carefully and nodded in acknowledgement. 

“I understand” Hannibal responded, and Bedelia considered him closely as he spoke, and was surprised to find herself believing him. “Though it may make what I have to tell you about the events which occurred yesterday somewhat problematic” he advised. 

Bedelia felt her stomach tighten and she swallowed hard.

“What happened yesterday?” she asked directly. Hannibal offered her a small smile and picked up his plate from the island.

“After breakfast” Hannibal stated with conviction, as he walked around the island and towards her. “Every convicted man and woman is entitled to a last meal of their choosing before their execution” he reminded her. Bedelia sighed lightly and nodded in agreement, before following Hannibal into the dining room.

Bedelia sat opposite Hannibal at the dining table, sipping orange juice which she hoped she would be able to keep down, as she awaited their post-breakfast conversation with an almost palpable feeling of fear and foreboding. Hannibal seemed almost irritatingly calm as he ate his breakfast, even having the gall to indulge in small talk, which consisted of informing her of various dinner engagements and social events which they had been invited to over the coming weeks. She listened closely but agreed absently, finding herself unable to think past the present moment. She was both relieved and overwhelmed when Hannibal rose to his feet and carried his empty breakfast plate and their respective glasses back into the kitchen, whilst she retreated to the parlour.

As Bedelia walked into the parlour she found her anxiety overcoming her almost completely. What had Hannibal done the day before? Had he killed someone else? If so, why? Who? Was it someone who was known to them? If so, what would the implications be?

Before she realised it, Bedelia was standing next to the drinks table, and was reaching towards the decanter of the Batard-Montrachet she had recently bought from Vera Dal 1926 the day she discovered her pregnancy. The memory drew her immediately out of her stupor, and she was about to lower her hand and turn away, when she heard Hannibal’s footsteps approaching.

Unable to abandon the wine without arousing suspicion, Bedelia poured herself a glass with a trembling hand, before taking in a deep breath and carrying it towards him. He looked up at her before sitting down in an armchair, watching as she leaned against the wall and waited for him to begin.

Hannibal spent the next five minutes recounting the events of the day before, where he had lured Will Graham into a game of cat and mouse once more, with one major difference: the cat’s identity was known, and the mouse had arguably more cat-like qualities than rodent ones. And it was not alone, for it was being assisted by Jack Crawford, who was almost as equally personally invested as seeing Hannibal caught as Will himself. Bedelia felt anxious and infuriated in equal measure, and it took everything she had to remain calm as she listened to Hannibal talk. As she listened to him discuss the events from the day before, the murder he had used to attract Will’s attention, and the pleasure he seemed to experience when discussing the events, Bedelia found herself experiencing a strong desire to drink the wine she was holding, which was incredibly difficult to resist. She reasoned one solution would be to throw it at Hannibal which, as it stood, was incredibly tempting. She rose the glass to her lips and pretended to take a sip, finding the dizzying scent of the wine soothing her for a moment, as she resisted the urge to consume it all in a single mouthful.

Hannibal had outdone himself in terms of recklessness on this occasion, risking their exposure in an unprecedented manner. As they discussed his actions and, more specifically, his obsession with Will Graham, whom seemed to pique his curiosity with fatal consequences, Bedelia found herself considering the decision she had to make, which after this revelation appeared to have been made for her by Hannibal himself. She was somewhat surprised to realise how sad and disappointed both the fact, and the decision itself, made her.

Hannibal’s recklessness might have led Will Graham and Jack Crawford right to their door, and if it didn’t, it would. Because those men would not stop in their quest to find Hannibal and bring him to what they considered to be justice; for them it was a very personal battle which they would risk everything to win, having both lost so much already. As Bedelia considered Hannibal’s words with barely concealed disdain, she found herself considering her options once again, finding herself angered by the fact that Hannibal appeared to have made it for her. 

Ever since she had agreed to run away with Hannibal and begin their lives as fugitives, Bedelia had made a plan for what she would do if they were caught. Her years of experience as a psychologist meant that she could, without a doubt, feign any number of conditions, from Stockholm Syndrome to PTSD, and claim that Hannibal had forced her to come with him and to stay against her will. She had also brought with her a supply of drugs which she would inject herself with and claim he had used to sedate her, as he manipulated her mind as he had Will Graham’s, causing her to believe things which were not true and controlling her, forcing her compliance. And who would doubt her? Why would they do so? Even if they did, she was confident in her abilities to feign any number of conditions which would absolve her of both legal and moral responsibility for her actions and his crimes.

However, that plan stopped being a possibility the moment she learned of her pregnancy. Because she knew that this option was no longer available to her now that she was carrying Hannibal’s child. Not only could she now not use the drugs she had brought with her due to her pregnancy, but the plan itself was now both improbable and impossible, and she had only two choices available to her. She could either tell Hannibal about the baby and remain with him, or not tell him and leave. But if he was captured, and she evaded the law by carrying out her initial plan of feigning psychological trauma, her pregnancy would no longer remain a secret, and Hannibal would find out. And that would put her and her baby in the most dangerous of situations; as Bedelia had no doubt that, even from behind bars in the securest prison in the world, Hannibal Lecter was still an incredibly dangerous man and he, like his pursuers, would stop at nothing.

“You are going to be caught” Bedelia informed him, drawing herself away from her thoughts. “It has already been set into motion” she added, barely able to conceal her anger. Hannibal looked up at her with wary curiosity.

“Is that concern for your patient or concern for yourself?” Hannibal asked, watching her closely and with great interest. Bedelia held his gaze with an unreadable expression.

“I am not concerned about me” she stated with conviction, her response containing every sign of truth and sincerity, as she was considering her baby’s fate, which she was concerned about far more than her own. “I know exactly how I will navigate my way out of whatever it is I have gotten myself into with you” she answered, half-honestly, despite the confidence and assertive nature of her tone. She held Hannibal’s gaze with eyes ablaze. “Do you?” she asked.

And Bedelia found herself both surprised and unnerved to see emotions akin to sadness and uncertainty appear upon Hannibal’s countenance.

“I did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> Sorry for the delay in updating. I've been quite busy with work and other things. I will try to update twice a week.
> 
> If you have any questions or advice, especially concerning characterisation, please let me know. Bedelia is the trickiest character I have ever tried to write, closely followed by Hannibal!
> 
> Some of the dialogue towards the end is from s3 e3, which is of course not my own.
> 
> Thank you, and I hope you enjoyed this latest instalment.
> 
> I hope you are all keeping safe and well during these difficult times.
> 
> Best wishes,
> 
> HQ21


	20. Chapter 20

Following Hannibal’s startling revelation concerning the effect of his ‘curiosity’ upon his actions relating to Will Graham, Bedelia was relieved to find that she managed to remain calm and pragmatic, with her knowledge of the possibility of her leaving Italy providing her with quite comfort and reassurance. Although it was not the scenario she wished to choose (a fact which both surprised and concerned her), she consoled herself by reminding herself that it was Hannibal who was forcing her hand through his own recklessness, his desire to test and toy with Will Graham somehow overcoming his own innate desire for self-preservation. The fact that he seemed to be either ambivalent to or ignorant of the fact that it was more than just his own self he was preserving incited her ire, and it was this, combined with her thinly-veiled reference to having an escape plan should one be required, that she found herself feeling both calm and guilt-free in the hours that followed her discussion with Hannibal.

Though, admittedly, her nerves had been tried during the evening and morning that followed, as Dr Romano tried to call her several times. Bedelia had missed the first call and quickly declined the second, whilst sending the third one straight to voicemail when her phone had rung again just after she and Hannibal had eaten breakfast the following day, and were in the kitchen dealing with the dishes. She’d looked up immediately afterwards and found Hannibal busy with the washing up, and had initially hoped he had not registered the call, assuring herself that the sound of the running water would have concealed it. As she turned the phone to silent she noticed the voicemail icon appear at the top of the screen, and she hesitated, before turning her phone off and placing it face down upon the island. She then picked up a tea towel and dried the wine glasses distractedly.

When Bedelia retreated to her bedroom alone that evening, she took her phone with her, sitting on the end of her bed and holding it in her hand, as she spent a minute or so agonizing over whether to listen to the message. She had managed to keep herself calm and composed since Hannibal’s return, and she did not wish to risk losing her nerve, and certainly not now. After a further minute of deliberation, Bedelia decided that she was being quite ridiculous, and she took a deep breath before playing the message, holding the phone close to her ear and listening intently. 

“This is a message for Mrs Fell from Dr Romano” began the familiarly soft voice in perfect, quick-spoken Italian, “I understand you telephoned yesterday to cancel your appointment with me, and advised that you do not require a further one” she added, her voice was kind and understanding, and it caused Bedelia to experience a sudden pang of guilt and embarrassment. She swallowed hard and gripped the phone tighter. “I understand that your condition has come as quite a shock to you, and it is completely understandable that you need some time to decide what you would like to do” she continued, the Dr’s words cutting through Bedelia, despite her sincere compassion. “Whatever you decide to do, Mrs Fell, you will need to consult with a doctor. If you decide to continue with the pregnancy, you will need to attend monthly appointments, as you are in a higher-risk category given your age and recent bleeding” she explained, Bedelia’s stomach dropping at the words. She knew all of this, of course, but had been trying not to think about it for now, given Hannibal’s recent actions. Or at least, that’s what she told herself. But deep down, she knew she was scared. “Whilst I did carry out an ultrasound when you last attended, should you choose to continue with the pregnancy, I will need to carry out a further one to establish your due date, and take some measurements of the baby” she explained. Bedelia inhaled sharply at the word ‘baby’ and forced herself to continue to listen. “I appreciate you have a lot to think about, and I don’t want to overwhelm you with information before you have made your decision” she advised kindly. “If you could please give me a call to discuss matters when you are able to, I would be very grateful” she added. “If it would assist you, I would be more than happy to arrange an appointment to see both yourself and your husband so that we can discuss-”

And Bedelia found herself hanging up the phone immediately and placing it down on the bed as though it had burned her. No. No, no, no, absolutely not. She wasn’t ready for this, she wasn’t ready for any of this. She wasn’t ready to tell Hannibal about the baby, and she certainly wasn’t ready to go back to the medical centre. Whilst she knew that she wanted to continue with the pregnancy and would do all that she could to ensure the health and wellbeing of her unborn child, given the fact that she was at a relatively early stage of her pregnancy, she reassured herself that she could wait the two weeks she had set herself before making a decision about whether she would tell Hannibal about the baby or leave him altogether. The fact that her pregnancy was high-risk and she had already collapsed and lost blood weighed heavily on her mind, as she knew that miscarriage was still very much a possibility. There may not be any need for her to make another appointment.

Bedelia then reached for her phone and deleted the voicemail message, as well as her recent call history, before placing her phone on the bed once more and finding herself quickly becoming overwhelmed. 

Whether it was due nervousness about her pregnancy or the possibility of losing it she did not know, but Bedelia found herself feeling suddenly incredibly nauseous, the now familiar feeling of sickness prompting her to rise to her feet and hurry into the bathroom, where she made it to the toilet just in time. After having lost all of her breakfast and the majority of her dinner, Bedelia flushed the toilet and leaned against the cold wall, its stability comforting her as she regained control of her breathing and her body. Bedelia sighed deeply and closed her eyes for a moment, realising it was already becoming difficult to conceal her condition, and trying to ignore her fears that Hannibal was likely to discern it before long. She was so preoccupied with considering how very little time she had to act that she did not notice that she had subconsciously placed her hand upon the small curve of her belly.

However, despite the anxiety arising both from her pregnancy itself and the need to conceal it, Bedelia found the week that followed to be one which passed in a fast and uneventful manner which relieved her greatly. 

Bedelia and Hannibal continued to sleep in separate rooms, which was of a considerable reassurance to her. Although she missed his presence in her bed, and the warmth and security she felt when he was lying beside her, she had no doubt that he would discern her condition very quickly if they shared a bed. His hand had drifted quite innocently towards her belly earlier that week, and although the slight swell she had developed was modest, she felt confident that he would not mistake it for bloating or simple weight gain. He would know exactly what it was. 

She also enjoyed having a space which was completely her own, and which he did not venture into. For Bedelia, one of Hannibal’s most attractive traits was that he was a gentleman. He moved into the spare room following her failed attempt at leaving, and he was respecting her clear desire to have a space of hr own. Should she ask him to return, she felt confident he would agree (and happily), though she knew he would not raise much less force the issue. He would wait until she was ready. But, for now, she was enjoying the room for what it was: the one space she had in the world where she did not have to worry, at least for a while.

It was probably the contentment arising from this, as well as the fact that Hannibal had not killed anyone in almost a week, that caused Bedelia to start to feel considerably better.  
Although her morning sickness continued, it was relatively mild, afflicting her only once or twice in the morning, with her tending to feel slightly nauseous in the late evening. The fact that she and Hannibal had separate rooms with their own ensuites made concealing her sickness very easy, and she was confident that he had not suspected it at all. However, as the week progressed, she found herself experiencing another tell-tale symptom, which she did not even realise until late on Thursday afternoon.

Bedelia found that she was feeling rather hungry throughout the day, and the prospect of waiting until her next meal seemed impossible. She therefore found herself frequently needing to snack between meals, satisfying herself with left overs, but favouring citric fruit such as oranges and grapefruits. She even cut a lemon in half and bit into it one evening, the strong, acidic flavour tasting divine. It was this which had caused her to realise the change in the amount and frequency of her eating, and she lowered the lemon slowly from her lips. Thankfully, Hannibal spent considerable parts of the day at the Palazzo Vecchio, which afforded her much-needed time to herself, and provided the perfect opportunity to indulge herself, acceding to her body’s every dietary demand.

But as she stood in the kitchen with a lemon rind in her hand, Bedelia found herself feeling suddenly rather worried. She made her way slowly towards the fridge and looked inside, her eyes drifting across the depleting plates of left overs. She then closed the door and turned towards the island, where the fruit bowl was displayed, now appearing considerably barer. She gripped the lemon rind in her hand and felt her stomach drop: what if Hannibal had noticed her increased eating habits? What if he had become curious about the absence of certain foods?

She had solved the issue of creating an excuse for avoiding the oysters which were a prominent feature of her evening meals by informing Hannibal that she would not “eat like an animal that you intent to slaughter”. He had looked upon her with bemusement and, without acknowledging any truth in her statement, had simply asked her what she would prefer instead, and agreed to her various requests without question. In fact, not only had the menu changed, but her appetite had to; she had never been one for breakfast, but found herself needing it now, and sometimes when she finished her dinner she still felt hungry. What if that, combined with her newfound love of fruit, caused him to suspect that she was pregnant? Did he know already?

No, answered Bedelia’s mind, the confidence of its assurance comforting her. No, of course he doesn’t. How could he? She considered. An increase in appetite, even if it was noticeable, would not immediately cause him to suspect that I am pregnant, she reasoned. 

Feeling considerably assured but not completely convinced, Bedelia threw the lemon rind away and retreated to the sanctity of her bedroom, running herself a hot bath and changing into a black silk and lace robe.

As Bedelia sat on the edge of the tub and ran her hand through the water, her eyes drifted towards her lower belly, and she placed her free hand upon the small swell. A swell which, though it was small, seemed to be battling to become more prominent. 

Pressing down gently on her belly, Bedelia felt quite confident that her rounded midsection was becoming harder with each day, the curve more pronounced, the shape more defined. Whether it was due to the fact that she was naturally petite and would start showing earlier, or if it was simply due to her own increasing paranoia, it was hard to tell. Though Bedelia did find that she shared a close affinity with the narrator in Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart”.

Having been fearful of Hannibal, who was perceptive almost to a fault, would notice her changing shape, Bedelia had taken to wearing control underwear whilst in his presence, fearful that changing her wardrobe choices would cause Hannibal to become suspicious. She had therefore elected to wear only the clothes she currently had, favouring dresses which were looser-fitting about her middle, and pairing pencil skirts with silk blouses to conceal her rounded belly. The combination of these tactful outfit choices and her control underwear had meant that her condition was not discernible whilst she was clothed, of that she was certain. Though it did get to a point in the evening when she simply wanted to tear her own ‘person suit’ from her body and slip into a silk nightdress. 

It had therefore been a considerable relief to Bedelia that she had been able to spend the majority of the week at home, either with Hannibal or by herself, resting and relaxing without doing anything overly taxing. However, Bedelia’s relief was not to last, and all of her concerns regarding her eating habits, her weight, and the tell-tale signs of her condition came to the fore when she and Hannibal were having dinner on Thursday evening.

“Do you recall meeting Professor Sogliaco at the charity gala we attended just over a week ago?” Hannibal asked softly, as he sliced into his steak.

“The rude gentleman who tried to humiliate you in front of academics and your colleagues at the Palazzo Vecchio” Bedelia responded gently, reaching for her glass of water with ice and lemon, “how could I forget” she asked rhetorically. “What about him?” she continued. Hannibal smiled as he skewered a piece of steak with his fork, and rose it to his lips.

“I’ve invited him for dinner.”


	21. Chapter 21

Bedelia stared at Hannibal over her glass, locking eyes with his, her own gaze hardening as she observed amusement in his eyes. She swallowed a small sip of water and slowly replaced the glass, breaking eye contact with him and taking a breath to compose herself, before meeting his eyes with a steely gaze.

“Why, Hannibal?” she asked simply. Hannibal held her gaze, his confident expression not faltering.

“He is one of the leading academics in his field, and a firm fixture in the social circles in which we are part of” Hannibal responded simply, punctuating his response by dabbing the corners of his mouth with a pristine silk napkin. Bedelia felt her stomach drop. That wasn’t what she was asking, and he knew it.

“Why?” Bedelia persisted, her voice firm though somewhat breathless. 

“In order to establish ourselves here and to avoid arousing suspicion, it is important that we act exactly as we are expected to act” he replied simply, looking up and meeting Bedelia’s gaze. She stared at him for several seconds, and was both frustrated and unnerved by the fact that she could not tell if he was lying.

“We can do that perfectly well if you would simply stop killing people with a link to the Caponni Library” Bedelia responded icily, “and especially if you stop goading Will Graham and the FBI.”

“I wasn’t aware that dinner with a colleague was considered to be goading the FBI” Hannibal responded lightly, as he lifted his wine glass to his lips. 

Bedelia, who was becoming increasingly anxious about her ability to conceal her condition and was suffering from a strong feeling of nausea, found that her patience was plummeting far below zero.

“You are aware of exactly what I am referring to” Bedelia responded acidly, the unusually cold and angry edge to her voice causing Hannibal to stare at her curiously, stilling his actions as he drew his glass to his lips. “Your actions are becoming increasingly reckless, and it not just your life that you are putting at risk” she spat, before removing her napkin from her lap and throwing it down upon the table as she rose to her feet. “You have a lot more to lose than you realise, Hannibal. We both do” she said quietly, her voice eerily calm. 

Hannibal tilted his head to the side curiously and watched as Bedelia walked briskly towards her bedroom, closing her door behind herself with the suspicion of a slam. He found himself considering her parting words to him as he finished his exquisite glass of wine. 

Bedelia was shaking with emotion as she slammed her door behind her, leaning heavily against it and staring at a space on the wall in front of her, her entire body trembling. She replayed her last words to Hannibal as she had left the table, words thrown at him in a fit of anger and heightened emotion, and ones which she had instantly regretted. She tried desperately to remember every word – every last syllable – and although her excellent memory permitted her to do so, she found herself comforted very little. She hadn’t intended to say what she had said, the words had spilled out, and she had only realised the gravity of what she had said as she had stormed away from the dinner table. Bedelia rose a trembling hand to her mouth and tried to calm herself, assuring herself that her words had been far too broad to have revealed her secret to Hannibal. She had almost calmed herself completely when a sharp tap on the door she was leaned against startled her, causing her to jump and turn instinctively towards the door.

“Bedelia?” Hannibal asked, his voice calm and controlled. “May I come in?” he asked a few moments later, after she had failed to reply. 

Bedelia swallowed hard and took a step forward, reaching for the handle and opening the door slowly. Hannibal was standing in front of her, his eyes darting up to meet hers immediately, his expression softening as their gaze met.

“I owe you an apology” he said gently, the words striking Bedelia with an almost physical force. “I should not have made light of a subject which you had clearly already advised me caused you some considerable concern” he continued, his tone humble and sincere. “I am sorry, Bedelia” he said softly, taking a tentative step forwards as he spoke. 

Hannibal was barely inches away from her, and the combination of his divine scent and her treacherous body’s strong desire for him caused her to find her resolve wavering. It was only when she felt his hand on her waist that she was drawn instantly from her thoughts, stepping back and away from his touch. Hannibal lowered his hand and took a respectful step back immediately, his eyes darting to hers, seeking an explanation. Bedelia felt panicked, but she somehow managed to provide him with one.

“Then prove it to me, Hannibal” she said simply, her voice slightly breathless as she spoke. “Stop” she added.

Hannibal held Bedelia’s gaze for several moments.

“I can’t, Bedelia” he returned gently. “You know I can’t” he reminded her. “At least, not completely” he added. Bedelia held his gaze and swallowed hard, her shoulders setting as she stared at him resolutely.

“Try” responded simply, “before it’s too late for both of us” she added. 

Before Hannibal had time to respond, Bedelia turned on the spot and returned to her bedroom, closing the door behind her firmly without a backwards glance. She leaned against it and was relieved to hear his footsteps travelling away from the door.

Although she and Hannibal had barely even begun to eat their first course and her hunger was considerable, Bedelia felt too shaken and upset to even contemplate eating, and certainly not in his company. She therefore found herself retreating to her bathroom and running herself a hot bath, adding a generous amount of orchid-scented bath salts and locking the bathroom door.

It was with tremendous relief that she removed her fitted midnight blue pencil dress, and she practically tore the control underwear from her body, finding herself feeling an instant relief. She wrapped her white silk floral kimono around herself and secured it, before sitting on the edge of the tub and running one hand through the hot waters, whilst subconsciously using the other to rub her belly in gentle, soothing motions. Once she became aware of what she was doing she found herself startled from her thoughts, and she lowered her hand slowly from her belly, which she stared at for several moments. Bedelia felt a lump forming in her throat, which she battled to ignore, swallowing hard and forcing her attentions away from that tell-tale swell at the base of her abdomen. She then turned off the tap and removed her robe, before lowering herself slowly into the soothing scented waters of the regal bathtub, and immersing herself beneath them.

After putting herself to bed early and hungry, Bedelia endured a restless night’s sleep, waking several times at hourly intervals. She finally slipped into a deep sleep shortly after four o’clock in the morning, her exhaustion causing her to sleep well past ten o’clock, which surprised her once she finally woke, from hunger rather than being well-rested. 

Knowing that Hannibal would have left for the Capponi Library over an hour ago, Bedelia wrapped her favourite white silk kimono around herself and walked through the apartment, a chill running through her as her bare feet walked across the cold floor. Stifling a yawn, Bedelia blinked tiredly as she stepped into the kitchen, a room which she felt was entirely too far from her own. As she stepped over the threshold she stopped immediately, her attentions instantly befalling the display before her.

In the centre of the kitchen island were two large plates overflowing with freshly-baked muffins, one a plate laden with blueberry ones, the other with lemon. There was also a large jug of freshly-squeezed orange juice, complete with orange and lemon wedges and ice which clinked soothingly. A large bunch of tulips in bright hues added an explosion of colour to the room, and Bedelia felt a small smile playing upon her lips, quite without her permission. As she walked slowly towards the island, she found her gaze befalling the golden envelope which rested against the vase of flowers, a beautiful calligraphic ‘B’ in Hannibal’s distinctive hand capturing her attention.

Bedelia opened the envelope and removed a plain white card with a floral border of embossed gold, her eyes drifting towards Hannibal’s message, which had been written in the blackest ink.

“Bedelia,  
I am sorry that I upset you, it was not my intention. I am especially sorry that our argument resulted in you retiring for the evening before dinner. I hope that this humble offering will atone for the latter, whilst I focus my attentions completely upon the former.  
Hannibal.”

Bedelia read the note twice, before returning her attentions to the island. She realised that Hannibal had not only prepared her favourite muffins for her, but he had also replenished the fruit bowl, which was now almost overflowing with oranges, apples, mangoes and lemons. The sight of the food which he had so thoughtfully purchased and prepared, combined with the sincerity of Hannibal’s note, caused her to relax considerably. She then placed the note back into the envelope and rested it against the vase of flowers, which smelled divine, before helping herself to a lemon muffin and glass of orange juice. 

Three lemon muffins and one glass of juice later, Bedelia spent a blameless day inside the apartment, reading and relaxing and slowly making her way through the muffins. After eating a total of five lemon muffins, Bedelia forced herself to prepare a healthy salad for lunch, rewarding herself with her sixth lemon muffin of the day. She then slept for a couple of hours, before having a long bath which she emerged from shortly after three o’clock. 

After selecting her outfit for dinner that evening – a red pencil dress which she felt confident would conceal her rounded belly – Bedelia sat at her dressing table adorned in only her favourite white kimono, as she began to dry then style her hair.

Although she head Hannibal return home at around four-thirty, Bedelia remained in her bedroom and continued to get ready for the evening, as was her custom for such occasions. Whenever Hannibal invited guests to the house she would prepare herself whilst he prepared the food. She would then join him in the kitchen for wine and conversation, remaining with him until their guests arrived, at which point she would tend to them whilst Hannibal dealt with dinner. It was an arrangement which they had fallen into effortlessly and without discussion, and it suited them both perfectly.

Indeed, their newly-established tradition was so natural to them both that Bedelia found herself deeply engrossed in it, and it seemed like only moments between her examining herself in the mirror in her red dress and stylish up-do, and her carrying the silver salver laden with meat to the dinner table. She laid it down with care as Hannibal chipped away at a large piece of ice, preparing a lemon-based cocktail which smelled divine.

After laying the large silver salver down upon the table, Bedelia glanced across at Hannibal, and watched as he handled the ice pick with a practiced hand. The cocktail truly did smell divine, and she found herself craving citrus. The fact that she would have to avoid it due to the alcohol content was incredibly disappointing, and she found herself wondering how she might manage it without alerting suspicion. She felt confident that the timeless classic of pretending to take small sips would be effective, especially as the melting ice would increase the quantity of the liquid inside, making it difficult to observe precisely how much (if any) she had consumed. She was just contemplating whether the melted ice would dilute the alcohol enough to enable her to have just a little, when Hannibal’s words removed all prospect and desire from her body and mind.

“Punch Romaine” Hannibal announced. “A cocktail created by Escoffier, and served to first class guests on the Titanic during their last dinner.”

Bedelia lowered her gaze from Hannibal and she felt her stomach drop. Despite her rising anxiety, she adopted as calm an expression as she could muster, but avoided looking at him as he served her first, knowing she would not be able to conceal her annoyance. Although he had not expressly assured her that he would not harm the professor, she felt his apology had implied he would not to a degree which she felt justified her current feeling of betrayal. She hoped he was just toying with her, teasing her lightly; though she knew instinctively, and almost immediately, that he was not.

Bedelia found herself glancing towards Professor Sogliato, who rose his cocktail and toasted Hannibal’s curatorship, apparently blissfully unaware of the sinister reason behind it being served. For an academic, Bedelia considered he did not seem to possess either common sense or powers of perception; the atmosphere in the room was so cold she was surprised the cocktail itself did not freeze in the glass.

As Bedelia rose her own glass politely in response, she watched the professor closely, with an ever-increasing sense of foreboding. She tried to ignore all the weapons available in the room, the countless knives and various implements, and most especially Hannibal.

Bedelia remained perfectly still and listened helplessly as she watched the performance before her play out, Hannibal and the professor’s conversation seemingly innocuous to the latter, but sinister to her expert ears. Hannibal was toying with this man as a cat did with a mouse, whose fate was sealed as soon as it had been selected by the larger predator; it was now simply a question of how long Hannibal Lecter would play with his food until he made it into a meal. Bedelia tried to ignore the sickening feeling deep in the pit of her stomach, which caused her dormant nausea to return to the fore at the very thought. 

How desperately she wanted just a sip of that cocktail.

“Then you weren’t paying attention” the professor returned, responding to something Hannibal had said which Bedelia’s musings had caused her to miss. 

The slightly patronising edge to his tone drew her out of her thoughts and back into the present, and she found the compassionate side of herself internally willing the professor to stop, not to give Hannibal an excuse or a reason, neither of which he needed. Perhaps they would argue and the professor would storm out in anger? He seemed the type to storm out. She hoped he would prove her right.

“I pay lots of attention” Hannibal countered, his tone calm and conversational. “Not in a wide-eyed, indiscriminate way” he added.

Before Bedelia registered what was happening, Hannibal reached for the ice pick and turned quickly towards the professor, plunging it into his temple with a single, smooth action. The collision of metal against bone created a sound which Bedelia likened to a sword being removed from its sheath.

Hannibal lowered his hand immediately, and Bedelia watched as the professor’s eyes widened, as he made a gurgling, choking sound, which quickly abated. She stared at him in shock, her untouched cocktail glass still in her hand, as time itself seemed to stop completely.

Bedelia stared at the professor, who was somehow still alive and sitting quite still, blinking at intervals and making the strangest of sounds. And Hannibal simply sat down in his seat, in a manner which seemed almost offensively calm given the current circumstances. Professor Sogliato’s repeated choking sounds make Bedelia’s stomach clench, and for a moment she believed she was actually going to be sick.

“That may have been impulsive” Hannibal acceded, his voice as offensively calm as his manner. The fact that he then proceeded to continue to eat his dinner only increased her anger.

“You’ve been mulling that impulse ever since you decided to serve Punch Romaine” Bedelia countered, as Hannibal continued to chew his food, completely ignoring the gurgling, choking, spluttering sounds being made by the professor. 

Bedelia turned towards the ailing academic, morbid curiosity consuming her. She found herself staring at him as one stared at a fatal car accident of which there could surely be no survivors. 

“I can’t see” the professor announced, his voice calm and oddly unaffected. He then began to chuckle, and then laugh, as the silver handle of the ice pick protruded from the side of his head. 

Bedelia was sickened. Of all the things Hannibal Lecter was, she had never suspected him of being capable of this level of cruelty. This degree of pain was bordering on torture, and the fact that he was simply sitting beside the dying man and eating his dinner as he laughed and spoke in rapid Italian turned her stomach. Although she would have preferred Hannibal showed mercy, considering he had already humiliated the professor by quoting Dante’s first sonnet in the original Italian in front of the man’s colleagues after he had questioned his knowledge, she found herself hoping that the man would die quickly. The injuries he had suffered were catastrophic, no one could possibly survive them. He was already displaying clear signs of brain damage, which would be irreversible. If Hannibal ‘had’ to kill him, why couldn’t he have done it quickly? Why torment the poor man in a way which he, in his current condition, was completely unaware? She found herself likening the image before her to the memory of Anthony Dimmond crawling half-concussed and bleeding profusely towards a door he would never open. Hannibal had allowed him to try to escape death, before delivering him directly to it. But this, she decided, was far worse. After a few more moments of listening to his laughter, his incomprehensible utterings, his coughing and spluttering, she found the situation both inhumane and utterly unacceptable. And she found herself utterly unable to stand it.

Bedelia turned towards Hannibal and glared at him, her eyes cold and her expression stony, as she picked up a black silk napkin and rose from her seat, making her way around the table towards the ailing man. She stared at Hannibal hard once more, before wrapping the napkin around the handle of the ice pick, and pulling it out of the man’s temple, gasping slightly at the strength it took. The striking sound of metal against bone turning her stomach, and for a moment she feared she would be sick all over the Persian rug.  
But the sight of the thick, fresh blood which poured from the professor’s fatal head wound drew her thoughts from her sickness and back to the present moment. She stood by and watched as the professor slumped forward, his head falling into his plate of olives, which quickly became flooded with dark, fresh blood.

The metallic scent of blood hung heavily in the air, and Bedelia was repulsed by it, the copper tang clinging to her, overwhelming her very being. She could even taste it, heavy as it was in the air.

Hannibal paused from chewing his most recent mouthful of dinner to turn towards Bedelia, who was standing between him and the late professor, holding the ice pick with both hands.

“Technically” he began, speaking in a low, quiet tone, as if confiding in her a great secret, “you killed him” he said simply. 

Bedelia stared at Hannibal, her anger quickly turning into cold fear, as she recognised the truth in his words. And, in that moment, she recognised the situation for what it truly was: an exercise of control and cruel and effective reminder. She had told him several days before that she knew how she would get out “whatever situation it was” she had gotten herself into, and in response he provided her with a very convincing reminder of just how complicit in his crimes she truly is, and how entwined their fates are. He’d even gone as far as to involve her directly in his crimes, pulling her out of the realms of what she had convinced herself was observation, and firmly within the indisputable realm of participation. For tonight, despite how well-intentioned her actions, she had participated in Hannibal’s crimes. And, as Hannibal had stated, technically she had been the one to kill him.

Bedelia felt a curious combination of panic and anger, and she slowly lowered the ice pick, before turning her attentions towards Hannibal.

“No longer interested in preserving the peace you found here?” she asks accusingly, her voice trembling with equal measures of fear and anger, but at herself more than him.   
What a fool she had been, to believe that he could exercise restraint for her, for them, to preserve the lives they had tried to create together. A life, she was sure, Hannibal was enjoying. But it was clear that he was even more reckless than she had realised. 

“You cannot preserve entropy, it gradually descends into disorder” he informed her ever so matter-of-factly. 

“Two men from the Capponi are dead” Bedelia reminded him, her voice level and heavy and critical.

“I can only claim one” Hannibal responded, the calm and conversational nature of his tone increasingly her annoyance considerably. “Technically” he added, an amused smirk playing upon his lips.

“You’re drawing them to you, aren’t you?” Bedelia asked, somewhat breathlessly, her eyes fixed upon him. “All of them” she added, watching as he sipped his cocktail.   
It was almost as if he wanted to be caught. And so it was, in that moment, she found herself making a decision which had previously seemed impossible, but right now felt as though it were the easiest decision she had ever made.

When Will Graham and the FBI arrived – and they would arrive – she herself would be long gone.

And Hannibal Lecter, regardless of his fate, would live whatever remained of his life completely oblivious to the fact that she was carrying his child.


	22. Chapter 22

Bedelia stood beside Hannibal and stared at him, armed with both the confidence of her decisiveness and an ice pick. Whilst the former provided her with far greater strength, there was no question that the latter needed to be dealt with first. Though she was determined to have no part in it.

Bedelia’s feelings of confidence and assurance quickly descended into annoyance bordering on anger, and she sighed lightly, before placing the ice pick wrapped in the black handkerchief down upon the table next to the professor’s plate, which was overflowing with blood. The tell-tale metallic scent was so strong in the air she felt she could taste it. It was the nausea this induced, more so than her annoyance, which prompted her to make such a timely escape from Hannibal’s dinner table.

“Goodnight, Hannibal” Bedelia said quietly, her words forced and barely concealing her anger, before turning from the table and walking calmly towards her room without a backward glance. 

Only the sounds of her heels clicking rhythmically on the floor and Hannibal’s cutlery as he began to eat made any sound within the otherwise silent apartment.

As Bedelia approached her bedroom door, the feeling of nausea she was currently experiencing suddenly became overwhelming, prompting her to run the last few steps towards the room. She then ran directly into the bathroom and threw herself on the ground in front of the toilet, reaching it just in time as she was gloriously sick. 

Bedelia held onto the edge of the toilet as her body once again purged itself of the majority of the food she had consumed that day. Once she had finished, she found herself feeling shaken and very hot, her mind dizzy and her body drained. She put the toilet lid down and flushed, before placing an arm upon the seat and leaning against it, closing her eyes and trying to calm her breathing and acquire enough energy to rise to her feet. However, she found that she could not; she was feeling weak, weary, hot and confined, and she could not overcome it.

Unfortunately for Bedelia, the physical and emotion strain of the combination of her pregnancy itself and the evening she had endured ensured that her body did not accede to this particular desire. Instead, she closed her eyes, for what she told herself was for just a few moments, and drifted into the abyss.

Hannibal, who had experienced a strange and unfamiliar feeling of discomfort at Bedelia’s tone and her abrupt exit, tried to ignore the sensation and eat. However, the sound of Bedelia’s hastening footsteps prompted him to abandon his dinner, and he tilted his head curiously to the side, as the sounds of her running footsteps echoed throughout the apartment. He remained perfectly still for a few moments, honing his senses and listening intently for any other sound, but he heard nothing.

Experiencing the same discomfort he had felt before once again, Hannibal placed his napkin on the table and rose to his feet instinctively, before making his way calmly towards Bedelia’s bedroom. As he got closer to her door, his acute hearing detected the sounds of retching and breathlessness. He placed his hand instinctively on the doorknob and was about to open it, but quickly decided against it. Bedelia had vomited the first time she had taken a life too, and he felt quite certain that she would not want an audience on the second occasion. He recalled with perfect clarity her embarrassment upon the first. His awareness of the fact that Bedelia was also currently furious with him over the death of Professor Sogliato made him acknowledge the need for restraint, and to allow her the privacy she clearly desired. He was about to head back towards the dining room when something struck him.

It was quiet. Too quiet. Completely silent, in fact. 

Hannibal had heard the toilet flush perhaps ten seconds ago, and then nothing. No sound of Bedelia rising, moving, no sound at all. It was completely silent in her room, and he found himself feeling considerably unsettled by this. That feeling of discomfort returned to him once again, and he attempted to ignore it as he remained by her door, listening out for signs of movement or breathing – of anything – but there was nothing. And after a further thirty seconds of nothing, he swallowed his pride and knocked on the door.  
“Bedelia?” Hannibal called calmly, pausing and listening carefully for a few moments. Nothing. He rapped three more times upon the door. “Bedelia?” he called, a little louder, in case she had not heard him the first time. 

When his second knock was met with silence, Hannibal felt something deep inside his stomach tighten and ache, and he opened the bedroom door quickly, finding himself inside her immaculate room before he had even registered stepping over the threshold. 

Hannibal was struck immediately by the scent of Bedelia, the combination of her natural scent and those he attributed to her, as well as her perfumes and products, making him feel warm and somehow lighter. He forced aside the rising feel of desire which so often accompanied this sensation, and turned his attentions away from the empty room and towards the bathroom door, which was ajar. He hastened his step and made his way towards it, raising his hand to knock politely just as he reached it, but the sight of her in the corner of his eye prompted him to lower his hand immediately.

Bedelia was slumped over the toilet, her head resting on her right forearm, her left arm draped across her stomach. She was completely still, and appeared unconscious.  
Ignoring the tight, clenching feeling in the pit of his stomach and the feelings of dread which rose within him, Hannibal walked briskly towards Bedelia and crouched down beside her.

“Bedelia?” Hannibal said, his voice low but firm, as he placed one hand on her lower back and used the other to brush her hair from her face. She was startlingly pale, the red of her dress appearing even more vibrant against her alabaster skin. “Bedelia, open your eyes” he commanded, his voice slightly louder, as his eyes darted across her face in search of any signs that she had heard him. He found none.

Finding himself becoming increasingly concerned, Hannibal rose to his feet and leaned down towards Bedelia, placing his left arm around her waist and his right across the back of her knees as he attempted to lift her. It was only when Bedelia felt his hand upon the top of her stomach that she was drawn immediately out of the unconscious, her eyes flying open and her hands pushing him away instinctively.

“No” Bedelia protested, her voice weak and her words slightly slurred, as she turned towards Hannibal, who had removed his hands from her the moment she had begun to protest, and was watching her with an expression of curiosity and concern. 

Bedelia tried to ignore the rising feeling of panic she was currently experiencing, and placed a hand on the toilet as she tried to rise to her feet. As she did so, Hannibal stepped forward chivalrously, bending towards her and offering her his hand, which she refused.

“I’m fine, Hannibal” Bedelia responded curtly, his voice still not quite her own, as she rose to her feet. Hannibal respected her wishes not to be assisted, but remained very close to her, lest she should fall. Once she had risen to her feet she looked up and met his gaze with a confident expression. “I’m fine” she repeated. Hannibal stared at her with an unreadable expression.

“You were unconscious, Bedelia” Hannibal informed her calmly. Bedelia sighed lightly.

“I was asleep” she countered. Hannibal stared at her, his disbelief of her lie quite apparent.

“You’ve been sick” he remarked. Bedelia swallowed hard.

“You murdered a man in front of me, and put me in a situation where I myself had to assist you” Bedelia responded, her voice quiet and her eyes ablaze. “I see that old habits die hard” she added.

“As I said, technically you are the one who killed him” Hannibal responded calmly. Bedelia clenched her jaw and her eyes became marbled, almost cold.

“Get out” she breathed, anger permeating from every fibre of her being.

Hannibal had never heard Bedelia use such a tone before, and he found himself taken aback by it, though he concealed it well. Despite knowing she clearly wanted him to leave, he found himself still feeling concerned about her, her excuses not alleviating his worry. She was very pale, had vomited and then passed out, and whilst it was highly likely this was due to the events of the evening and the fact they appeared to remind her of the last man who died by her hand, his concerned continued. She did not appear well.

“You’re very pale, Bedelia. It’s important that you eat” Hannibal responded, his voice kind and sincere, a tone which calmed Bedelia somewhat, though not completely. “Whilst I appreciate it was my actions that caused tonight’s dinner to end rather abruptly, perhaps I could bring something to your room for you?” he offered kindly. Bedelia clenched her jaw and blinked back tears which burned in her eyes.

“Hannibal, I’d like you to leave” Bedelia responded icily, her voice firm and edged with anger, as she held onto the edge of the sink to steady herself as she stared at him.   
Hannibal stared at Bedelia, the coldness of her tone taking him aback. He hesitated for a moment before nodding in acknowledgement, turning on his heel and walking calmly out of the bathroom.

Bedelia remained standing in stunned silence, holding onto the edge of the sink with a grip so tight that her knuckles whitened. She took in an unsteady breath and placed her left hand subconsciously on the base of her stomach, which her control underwear was concealing from others. Though, based on the tightness of the elastic and the slight swell which was only just becoming apparent, she knew she would not be able to hide it for much longer. Thankfully, having decided she must leave Hannibal without telling him about their baby, she knew that this was not something that she would have to worry about for much longer.

As Bedelia stood beside the sink in her bathroom, she found herself replaying her recent encounter with Hannibal over and over again, causing several important questions to appear in the forefront of her mind. How long had Hannibal been in the bathroom with her? Was he suspicious of her sickness, or would he attribute it to the recent death of the professor? And when she had awoken to the sensation of his fingers at the top of her belly, where else had they wandered? Had he felt her rounded belly? Did he suspect?  
Bedelia found herself overcome with many questions and very few answers, which did little to assist her nerves. But after a few minutes of contemplation, she found herself feeling quite confident that Hannibal had not discerned her condition; if he had, he would not have left quite as easily as he did. At the very least, he would have insisted upon examining her, subsequent fainting to the death of the professor. Perhaps he believed it reminded her of the death of her patient. Either way, he did not suspect. 

She hoped.

Bedelia ran her hand tenderly from the base of her belly to the top, and looked down upon it, scrutinising her figure closely. Whilst a very slight curve was present at the base of her abdomen, it was concealed well by the layers beneath so as to disguise its cause. She was quite confident that she did not appear visibly pregnant. Though she knew she soon would.

Despite her body’s attempts to expel all food she had consumed from her body, she was starting to gain weight, and there was a distinct curve to her belly which the control underwear would not be able to contain for much longer. Feeling suddenly claustrophobic, and the elastic of the underwear entirely too tight, Bedelia undid the zip at the side of her red dress and pushed it down her body, as she quickly stepped out of it. She then turned her attentions to her belly, which was covered by the skin-coloured control underwear containing her secret. She pushed the elastic band at the top down, which left deep marks on her skin, and pushed the material over her belly, causing her to experience a sensation of almost immediate relief. Sighing lightly, Bedelia placed her hand over the small swell at the base of her stomach, cradling it in her hand. As she looked down upon herself she noticed that her belly was becoming distinctly rounder, which the control underwear had thankfully managed to even out, though without it, her condition was quite apparent. 

Bedelia swallowed hard, and felt a wave of dread overcome her, as she turned to the side and examined her profile. Her belly was indeed becoming distinctly rounder, and the skin beneath her palm was firm, meaning that the shape would not be able to be concealed for much longer. She was petite and slim and almost four months pregnant, all of which meant that her condition would be obviously in a very short time. Though she was not intending to be here when that time came. 

Removing her hands and attentions away from her belly, Bedelia walked mechanically into her bedroom and towards her chest of drawers, selecting a white silk nightdress which she changed into. The cool, loose-fitting fabric felt wonderful against her skin, and the kimono she put on over the top of it and secured about her waist made her feel more comfortable and less self-conscious over her changing body. 

After tidying up her bathroom and bedroom, Bedelia sat in her window seat and opened the window, staring out into the night and watching the people of Florence for some time in idle curiosity. How she envied their freedom.

The cool night air restored Bedelia considerably, and after a short while she found herself beginning to plan for her escape. She briefly considered simply getting a taxi to the airport and selecting a flight at random, but she quickly decided against it. She needed to be somewhere she felt comfortable, somewhere she felt safe. Somewhere with excellent healthcare services.

Sighing light, Bedelia curled up against the window and stared out of it once more, watching the cars and people idly pass.

America was out of the question, of course. It was the most likely place anyone would look, and the highest chance of her being discovered would be in the states. Though she supposed this could also work to her advantage: Hannibal was unlikely to risk returning there ever, as he was a fugitive wanted for murder, whereas she was simply a missing person. Perhaps it was a safer place for her and her baby than she thought…

No, she quickly decided. It was still a risk, and a considerable one at that. If her life with Hannibal Lecter and the pregnancy which resulted from it had taught her anything, it was the importance of considering the risks one took. So no, she would not return to America. 

After further consideration, Bedelia found herself thinking of England, which was the country she had fled to after she had realised just how Hannibal was and recused herself from his psychiatric care. Her parents were British and she had spent considerable time there when she was younger, especially with her grandparents in the south west. It was a beautiful place to live.

A beautiful place for a child to grow up.

The gravity of the thought struck Bedelia almost immediately, and she found herself feeling confident about her decision. England was a country which she was familiar with, she obviously spoke the language, the healthcare system was excellent, and she had travelled it extensively. She also knew a man in London who could obtain false identity documents for her, which she would require in order to start her new life. It was perfect.

Feeling confident with her decision, Bedelia removed her phone from her bag and began to search for flight details, determined to obtain a ticket tonight before she had chance to change her mind. She found that there were multiple flights daily from Florence to England, and she needed to choose her time carefully. She could not afford to rush things and be caught like last time. She also needed to ensure that Hannibal did not suspect she might be pregnant, which would mean she needed to distract him; when she did leave, it was vital that he suspected the reason was simply her desire to protect herself from police persecution, and not because she had something to hide. Certainly not a baby.

After some consideration, Bedelia decided she would permit herself a week to make the necessary arrangements to leave Italy and start a new life in England. There was a flight to England at six o’clock in the morning next Sunday, which she felt was appropriate. Although it was just over a week away, it afforded her plenty of time to put everything in place, and ensure she made no mistakes or hasty decisions. It was also the morning after ‘Madame Butterfly’, the opera which Hannibal had bought tickets for. It seemed like both a fitting goodbye and an excellent opportunity; they would enjoy one last night together in Florence, and then she would leave in the early hours of the morning, heading to the airport never to return. By the time Hannibal woke, she would be enroute to England, and he would never know of her location or their child’s existence. 

Bedelia felt both anxious and exhilarated, but completely confident in her chosen course of action. She booked herself a one way plane ticket, and her heart raced as the confirmation email came through, together with her electronic boarding pass. She read the details through twice, and relief flooded her. Bedelia placed her right hand subconsciously over her belly and turned towards the window once more, as she watched the people below her absently, as she considered her plans further, pointedly ignoring the rising feeling of hunger she was currently experiencing.

After over an hour, and in defiance of her hunger, Bedelia uncurled her exhausted body and retreated to her bed, snuggling down beneath the sheets and turning out the light. She could hear Hannibal moving about the apartment, the echoes of his footsteps and movements providing an oddly comforting metronome, which sent her into a deep, restorative sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> I hope you are all staying safe and well.
> 
> Thank you for continuing to read the story, and for your kudos, comments and bookmarks. I hope you are still enjoying it. As always, any questions, comments and advice are all greatly appreciated.
> 
> Some of the dialogue from the end of chapter 23 is from the third episode of series 3 of Hannibal, which obviously I do not own.
> 
> Best wishes,
> 
> HQ21 x


	23. Chapter 23

Over the next few days, Bedelia continued to consider and arrange her plan to leave Florence, learning from her previously hasty attempted departure and making more cautious, sensible decisions. She packed a single carry on case and selected her favourite handbag, choosing to pack far more lightly than before. She would leave the majority of her clothes, as she could purchase new ones in England. And the ones she owned would not fit her for much longer. In the bag she packed some clothes, her keepsakes and personal items which she could not be without, ten thousand pounds sterling, and the passport of Lydia Fell. Although it pained her, she knew in her heart that she would have to leave Bedelia Du Maurier behind, and as each day passed and brought her closer to the freedom and sanctuary that she and her baby desperately needed, she found herself becoming increasingly willing to sacrifice her former self. Hannibal was welcome to her.

Bedelia was unwittingly enabled in her preparations by Hannibal, who had been spending increasingly more time at the Capponi Library following their argument after the death of Professor Sogliato. He would often leave before she woke and return late in the afternoon, affording her with the majority of the day to move about the apartment (and, indeed, the city) without the need to worry about him noticing or becoming suspicious of his actions. It was just the evenings that she had to worry about.

And the evenings, she found, much to her surprise, were bliss.

After returning from the Capponi library, Hannibal would greet her and then retreat to the kitchen, where he would prepare their evening meal. Bedelia had left him to do so alone for three days, her anger at his recklessness and his cruelty still raw, before joining him on Tuesday evening. He had looked up at her and stared for several moments, as though to assure himself she was actually there, before smiling softly and continuing with his preparations. She had stood next to the island, asked him about his day and then offered to assist him. And, just like that, they fell into some kind of domestic harmony which they shared together in the evenings. The time they spent together was pleasant and enjoyable, and the conversations were engaging and invigorating and set her mind on fire. Bedelia found herself feeling more alive than she had done in quite some time, so much so that the time she spent with Hannibal reminded her of their very first couple of weeks in the city. Where they had spent the days exploring the city and its secrets, visiting the libraries and galleries and ancient buildings, before having lunch in a quaint little café or restaurant, and continuing their adventure late into the afternoon. On many days they would return to the apartment, feeling invigorated and almost drunk with the life they were forging here together, and the potential for them to remain. Hannibal had been so attentive, his company so enjoyable and so perfect; they had made love in every room of this house within the first three days of their arrival in the city, and it had been the most wondrous, perfect and utterly blissful time in her life.

It was with pain that Bedelia tore herself away from these memories, and forced herself to look up at the man before her, who was slicing leeks with the same knife he had probably cut up the body of Professor Sogliato and served it to their guests the night before. She then reminded herself that the honeymoon period of their relationship was over. She reminded herself that this could not continue, and that they would never be able to return to those times, much less live in them. Hannibal had killed three people in the past two weeks alone, and he was taunting Will Graham, whose capture of him was almost certainly inevitable. The life which they could have shared together – which she had risked everything for – was now crumbling to the ground in front of them, and would soon be ripped from their grasp, together with their freedom. And it was all because of Hannibal’s lack of control, his recklessness, and his obsession with Will Graham. By acting as he had, despite all of her warnings and opposition, he had risked not only their lives but their freedom, and that of their unborn child, which he did not even know existed. Because of Hannibal Lecter, she would have to abandon her life – again – and start afresh. Because of him, their child would never know its father, and would grow up in a life which was shrouded in secrecy. It deserved better than that, and so did she.

And so she was angry with Hannibal.

Furious, in fact.

And yet, the evenings they spent together in the kitchen, then at dinner, and then before the fire in the living room, were so thoroughly enjoyable and utterly intoxicating that she found herself feeling almost mournful that they were about to end. Bedelia’s enjoyment of Hannibal’s company and this aspect of the life they had together, as well as his apparent restraint or his murderous impulses during the week, almost caused her to change her mind about leaving. 

These feelings were especially strong on Wednesday evening, when Hannibal surprised her by running her a bath in the main bathroom. Shortly after arriving in Florence he had started to run her baths, where he would wash her hair for her, and they would talk. More often than not these delightful evenings ended in both of them being naked, though Hannibal never graced the tub. Due to their recent antithesis, Hannibal had not run Bedelia a bath in many weeks, and she wondered whether this recent attempt was his version of an apology, or perhaps he was missing the early days of their union as she was. Knowing that to decline would arouse his suspicions, but fearing he would notice her rounded belly if he saw her bare skin, Bedelia suggested he pour them both a drink and she would meet him in the bathroom. She was grateful and relieved when he agreed, and by the time he returned to the bathroom she was already submerged beneath the clouded, soapy waters.

As she was lying in the bathtub with Hannibal massaging shampoo into her hair, she found her mind flooded with childish notions that things would be fine as they were, that they could evade Will Graham and the FBI, that they could be together. Perhaps she could convince him to leave Florence with her, and start a new life together, in England or anywhere else. Maybe if she told him about the baby it would be enough to convince him to come with her, to lead a very different kind of life. Would Hannibal Lecter be drawn from a life of murder and cannibalism by the prospect of becoming a father?

“Bedelia?” Hannibal asked, drawing her from her thoughts and back to the present moment. She opened her eyes wide and looked up at him. “Are you alright?” he asked.   
“I’m fine” she responded, opening her eyes wide and looking up at him. She must have missed something he said, something he asked her. “I forgot how relaxing this is” she added sleepily, before holding his gaze with a patient expression, waiting for him to continue.

“You haven’t been drinking your wine” Hannibal observed casually, as his hands continued to massage her scalp. Bedelia inhaled deeply and felt her stomach tighten, as she glanced towards the small table beside the tub where he had placed a glass for her, as he always did when he tended to her in the bath. “Not tonight” he said softly, as he continued to massage the soap into her hair. “Not during dinner, and not in the parlour afterwards” he continued, his voice calm and casual, as he continued with his ministrations. “If you are growing tired of that particular vintage I can procure something else” he suggested, his dexterous fingers relaxing her almost entirely too much as he spoke. Though she suspected that was the idea.

Bedelia’s hands stilled for a moment, and she felt her stomach tighten almost painfully. She looked up at him with an unreadable expression, and met his gaze with intelligent eyes.

“Whilst enjoyable, alcohol causes us to lower our guard” Bedelia informed him simply. “And I have never felt in greater need of mine” she advised. “I would like to keep a clear head. To ensure that at least one of us is thinking and acting rationally” she continued. "I haven't poisoned it, if that's what concerns you" she added lightly.

Hannibal stared at Bedelia for a moment, his gaze not leaving hers.

“You find my thoughts and actions to be irrational?” Hannibal asked curiously. Bedelia stared up at him and held his gaze with a look of conviction.   
“I find your recent thoughts and actions to be completely beyond my comprehension” Bedelia admitted tiredly. “And, I suspect, so do you” she added, lowering her gaze from Hannibal and closing her eyes. Hannibal smiled softly and continued to massage the shampoo into her hair.

“You suspect I do not understand the reasons behind my actions?” Hannibal asked curiously, as he continued his ministrations. Bedelia hummed sleepily in response.  
“No” Bedelia returned calmly. “I said you believe that I am unable to comprehend your actions, not that you are not able to understand them yourself” she corrected. Hannibal considered her response and nodded slowly.

“And you believe that you do understand the reasons behind my actions?” Hannibal asked. Bedelia smiled softly and kept her eyes closed.

“I believe I am starting to” she responded, leaning back and enjoying Hannibal’s ministrations for several minutes, and allowing a brief silence to fall between them.

“What were you like as a young man, Hannibal?” Bedelia asked curiously, her voice calm and relaxed. He provided her with an evasive answer which she chose to ignore, before drawing him further towards the goal of the conversation, her attempt to assure him she understood him far more than he realised. “Would you like to talk about your first spring lamb?” she asked, opening her eyes and looking up at him. 

Bedelia knew that Hannibal’s sister was a subject he preferred not to discuss, but a remark he made quite innocently recently revealed his secret to her almost instantly, and she decided it was time to remind him that she knew about it. To both distract him from any curiosity or doubt he may have about the true reason for her newfound sobriety, and also to remind him that she too wielded a great deal of control. The fact that his hands stilled for barely a moment confirmed to her that she was right.

“Would you?” he asked. Bedelia ignored his question, which she immediately recognised an attempt to focus the conversation upon herself once more, and persisted.  
“Why can’t you go home, Hannibal?” Bedelia asked. “What happened to you there?”

“Nothing happened to me” Hannibal responded simply. “I happened” he added. 

Bedelia allowed Hannibal to continue to massage her head for a while longer, re-establishing his practiced rhythm, before she disturbed him by looking up at him once more, her eyes holding his gaze and attracting his immediate attention.

“How did your sister taste?” Bedelia asked victoriously, watching his expression change as she lowered herself into the depths of the water, her gaze holding his until she was completely submerged.


	24. Chapter 24

The days which followed Bedelia’s barbed remark to Hannibal whilst she bathed were pleasant and soothing, much to her surprise. Since moving to Florence, Bedelia had begun to consider her relationship with Hannibal to be more of a battle than an alliance; one would say or something which would surprise the other, and the other would respond in kind, either through words or actions. Whilst this was sinister, unconventional and – as Bedelia was becoming increasingly aware – dangerous, it was also incredibly intoxicating, and neither of them seemed willing to stop. Hannibal certainly would not, and she had been starting to suspect she would not either.

Until then she had discovered she was pregnant with his child.

Because then, suddenly, everything changed. The charged exchanges between herself and Hannibal, and his behaviour which had once been both dangerous and alluring was now simply dangerous, and hers was not the only life at risk. Part of her knew that she would have to cut herself off from Hannibal the moment she decided to continue with her pregnancy, but she had fought this instinct all the way, until Hannibal had given her no choice but to accept it. And yet, she was struggling to. 

Despite Hannibal’s murder of the professor, she had found the week that followed almost blissful, with the time they spent together reminding her of the beginning of their time in Florence together. There were moments where she began to question her decision to leave, and wonder whether there truly was an alternative. 

Bedelia was sitting next to Hannibal on the couch on Friday evening, the flames of the fire crackling, as soft parlour music played. His arm was around her and she was leaning against him, her head resting in the crook of his neck as she curled up beside him. His hand on her upper arm felt so strong and yet gentle, and she had never felt more safe. For a moment, she felt almost invincible. And it was in this moment of weakness that she almost told him.

Just two words, she thought as she stared into the fire, the flickering flames dancing in her eyes. I have doubted his ability to change, even when faced with the possibility of having a child, but what if I’m wrong? What if he would change, for the baby, for the life we could have together? What if his desire to have a family, something which he lost when he was still a child himself, was greater than the game of cat and mouse he was insistent on playing with Will Graham?

And yet, as the words began to form themselves on her lips, she found herself remembering a conversation they had had that very morning about his family and, specifically, his sister. As they discussed the subject of his sister, Bedelia guided the conversation towards their current predicament concerning Will Graham, and it became quite apparent to her that Hannibal appeared to draw parallels between his relationship with his sister and the FBI agent. She found this both intriguing and somewhat relieving, and had been keen to explore it further, until a certain point.

“If past behaviour is an indicator of future behaviour, there is only one way you will forgive Will Graham” she’d advised, watching him expectantly as he sat at the piano. After the briefest of pauses, he confirmed her suspicions, his response causing her stomach to clench and fear to overcome her almost completely.

“I’ll have to eat him.”

Those words played on a torturous loop in her mind as she stared into the fire.

If murder and cannibalism was the method by which Hannibal exercised forgiveness from a betrayal, then it seemed likely that this would be the consequence of her own deception. Of concealing her pregnancy from him, perhaps even becoming pregnant in the first place, though she strongly doubted Hannibal would hold such an antiquated view. But in any event, she had betrayed him, by concealing her pregnancy and planning to leave without telling him about it. 

The fact that she had no notion whatsoever as to how he would react to the news also concerned her greatly. Her profession and her experience provided her with an insight into most people which she found both accurate and helpful, but this was not the case with Hannibal; whilst she knew him well, she did not fully understand him, and his actions were as unpredictable to her now as they were the day they met almost seven years ago.

In the (almost) seven years that they had known each other, Hannibal had only discussed the prospect of having a child once. He raised it in one of their sessions, explaining that he had never considered having a child until he met Abigail. He spoke of the concept of an “opportunity to guide and support and in many ways direct a life” which, ordinarily, would have reassured Bedelia as to his intentions. And yet, on this occasion, it did not. Because how could she tell him she was carrying his child when he cut the throat of the last person he felt a paternal connection to, and allowed her to bleed to death on the kitchen floor? He murdered his sister and his surrogate daughter, and she would not provide him with another lamb.

As she leaned against him and felt his warm, strong body against her own, she began to wonder whether the greater betrayal would be telling him about the baby, and risking a reaction which she could not predict no matter how hard she tried, or not telling him and leaving before he had time to realise it. And time, as she was acutely aware, was running out faster than she had anticipated; the control underwear she had was uncomfortable to the point of pain, and her condition appeared to be getting more discernible by the day. Whether it was paranoia or reality which caused her to notice the more distinct swell of her belly she did not know, but what she did know for certain was that she had struggled to conceal it this week, particularly in the last couple of days. She had had to abandon two skirts which had treacherously betrayed her, refusing to be secured. Even her bras were feeling too restricting, due to the increasing tenderness in her breasts, which she feared were already starting to become fuller. Bedelia drew her silk robe across her instinctively tighter, and in that moment her mind was made up.

Of course she could not tell Hannibal about the baby. It was bordering on insanity to even consider such a notion. And this realisation filled her with immeasurable guilt and sadness. Because as much as she wanted this baby, and knew she had to give up her life with Hannibal in order to protect it, she felt a strong and undeniable sense of grief at the prospect of leaving this life behind.

“Are you cold?” asked Hannibal, his concern sincere and his tone alluring, as he tenderly stroked her side. Bedelia blinked herself out of her stupor and turned her gaze away from the fire and looked up at him.

“Tired” she breathed, her voice weary, as she feigned a smile. 

Hannibal smiled softly in response and nodded, before leaning down and capturing her lips in a soft kiss. Bedelia’s hand drifted up his chest and neck, her fingers cupping his cheek tenderly, as she deepened the kiss. 

And, for a moment, Bedelia began to lose control.

As the kiss quickly turned from chaste to passionate, Bedelia felt all of the tension ease from her body which became flooded in warmth and suddenly alight. She felt Hannibal’s drift up her back and cradle the back of her neck, his fingers becoming lost in her hair, as the kiss deepened. Hannibal’s free hand found her hip and began to drift lower, and she felt electrified by his touch, her body completely overriding her mind and acting of its own accord. 

Bedelia broke the kiss and moaned his name breathlessly against his lips, before rising onto her knees and placing her hands on his shoulders, as she climbed onto his lap. Hannibal responded immediately, placing his hands on her waist as she adjusted her position, pressing her pelvis down onto his. Hannibal hummed against her lips and his grip on her waist tightened for a moment, before his hands drifted down her body and rested on her hips, which he pressed down encouragingly. 

Bedelia moaned breathlessly against Hannibal’s lips, her heart racing within her chest as her breathing became harder and more erratic. It had been almost three weeks since they were intimate, and now that they found themselves on the precipice, neither of them could hold back. She pressed herself down onto him once more, and Hannibal made a deep, satisfied sound which caused her to tremble.

“Hannibal” she breathed, as his hands clenched her hips in a vice like grip, which she found incredibly arousing. “Han… Hannibal” she gasped, as she reached between them and found Hannibal’s belt, making quick work of the buckle and tugging impatiently at the top of his trousers. 

Hannibal pushed himself up off the sofa and assisted Bedelia in pushing down his trousers and underwear, revealing the extent of his arousal. Bedelia adjusted her position and lowered herself down onto him, feeling Hannibal’s hands squeeze her hips encouragingly as he filled her, his body fitting hers perfectly. Bedelia moaned at the familiar sensation and immediately began to move, prompting Hannibal to grip her hips tighter as they quickly established their rhythm.

They moved together slowly at first, savouring the sensation of their bodies being united once again after far too long apart. But after a few minutes their gentle, gradual pace was not enough for either of them, and their movements hastened, before becoming almost frenzied. Hannibal’s hands remained gripping Bedelia’s hips tightly, and he held her as she climaxed, holding onto the back of his shoulders and crying out in ecstasy. Hannibal came moments later, squeezing her hips as his entire body trembled. Bedelia felt him relax beneath her, his hands loosening their grip on her hips, and drifting down her thighs.

After allowing herself a few moments to recover, Bedelia found herself returning to reality with a suddenness which seemed almost cruel, and her stomach clenched as she realised the extent of her recklessness. How could she have allowed herself to be intimate with Hannibal when she was trying to conceal her pregnancy from him?

As Bedelia considered her dilemma, she quickly reassured herself that all was well. Hannibal’s hands had remained clamped to her hips during their lovemaking, and had not ventured anywhere near her rounded belly, which would have betrayed her secret immediately. The silk robe she was wearing over her nightdress was loosely secured about her waist, the material concealing her belly completely. And even in throes of ecstasy when she had collapsed against Hannibal, she had ensured that her belly never touched his.  
No, she reassured herself with immeasurable relief, her secret was quite safe.

Recovering both her mind and her body, Bedelia leaned slowly out of Hannibal’s embrace, his hands drifting down her body and resting on her upper thighs as she did so, their eyes meeting in the fire-lit dimness of the room. 

Even with just the fire to light the darkening night, Hannibal could tell that Bedelia’s eyes were glazed and her cheeks were flushed. Her lips were slightly parted and her breathing was still ragged which, combined with the fact her silk robe had come loose and revealed her bare left shoulder, made Bedelia appear incredibly erotic. It was rare that she appeared dishevelled, and he adored it when she did. And, from her racing heart and the way she was considering him with heavy eyes, it was clear that she was enjoying the sensation too. Hannibal held her gaze and offered her a tired smile, his heavy-lidded eyes blinking as he sought to regain his composure.

“I thought you were tired” he teased lightly, as his left hand drifted up her side and past her hips. Once Bedelia felt it heading towards her belly in an attempt to draw her closer to him, she held his hand and drew it away, placing it safely back on her hip and holding it there as she leaned into him.

“I am” she responded, her voice just as breathless as his, as she captured his lips in a searing kiss. “Goodnight, Hannibal” she breathed, before rising from his lap and heading out of the parlour and towards her bedroom before Hannibal could say a word. 

As Bedelia walked dazedly on trembling legs towards her bedroom, the wave of euphoria she had just enjoyed with Hannibal deserted her completely, and she found her sadness and guilt increasing tenfold. She clamped her hand tightly to her mouth and hurried into her room, closing the door behind herself just in time to muffle her sobs as she started to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> I hope you are all keeping safe and well.
> 
> I also hope you enjoy this chapter. Any advice/constructive criticism/comments are gratefully received.
> 
> There are some references in here to dialogue from the series, which of course is not my own.
> 
> We are also getting very, very close to Hannibal making a shocking discovery...
> 
> Until next time,
> 
> HQ21


	25. Chapter 25

After finally falling asleep shortly before four o’clock in the morning, Bedelia slept fitfully throughout what remained of the night, waking just after nine due to a sensation of overwhelming nausea so strong it drew her immediately from her slumber. Bedelia was barely conscious as she threw her covers instinctively aside and ran into the bathroom, collapsing in a daze in front of the toilet as she was violently sick.

Bedelia held onto the edge of the toilet as she retched, cold porcelain beneath her hot trembling hands, as wave upon wave of nausea assaulted her relentlessly. After several minutes of vomiting the nausea finally abated, and Bedelia put the lid of the toilet down and flushed it, swallowing hard as she tried to ignore the sensation of bile burning her throat.

Feeling too light-headed to even attempt to rise to her feet, Bedelia remained sitting on the cold floor for almost ten minutes, until she felt both strong enough to stand and confident that she would not be sick again. At least, not for the moment.

Bedelia held onto the toilet and drew herself to her feet, before walking unsteadily towards the sink, her legs feeling weak beneath her. After brushing her teeth and washing her face she found herself feeling a little refreshed, but not much better. She felt nauseous, exhausted, anxious and upset. The intimate encounter she and Hannibal shared together the night before played heavily upon her mind, and she found herself feeling increasingly guilty the more she thought about it. She had not intended to allow things to escalate as much as they had, and she had certainly not planned on sleeping with him. Which was perhaps why she had been so unprepared for how it had made her feel.

Bedelia’s bottom lip trembled and she closed her eyes, gripping onto the sink as she felt her emotions begin to overwhelm her. She could still feel his hands upon her hips, his breath hot upon her cheek, the sensation of him inside her. Even the scent of him still lingered on her skin.

And it was glorious, wonderful. Perfect. She had not wanted it to end, and that’s why she had made herself leave him last night, despite wanting nothing more than to remain in his arms.

Which was precisely why she had to leave. Because if she did not do it soon – in the early hours of the next morning, as planned – she feared she would not be able to do it at all. And she had to, she needed to. Her baby needed her to.

So she would.

After allowing herself a few minutes to regain her composure, Bedelia secured her robe around her waist and walked slowly out of the bathroom and through her bedroom, ignoring her unmade bed as she did so. Although she was exhausted and wanted to crawl back into bed and sleep the day away, her fear and anxiety about her imminent departure from Italy meant that she would not be able to relax enough to get a moment’s sleep; and the alternative, which was simply to lie there and overthink everything and drive herself to distraction, was not an option she would even consider entertaining. Today was her last day in Florence and her last day with Hannibal. She just needed to get through it.

Suppressing a shudder, Bedelia wrapped her arms around herself and walked out of her bedroom and into the apartment, the silence of which informed her that Hannibal had long since departed. She made her way instinctively towards the kitchen, intent on preparing herself a very strong cup of coffee. As soon as she stepped into the kitchen her attentions focused upon the offering in the centre of the island, which she walked cautiously towards.

On a plate in the centre of the island were a dozen freshly baked lemon muffins, the sight of which made Bedelia’s mouth water and her stomach growl, despite her recent sickness. In front of the plate was a folded piece of paper addressed to her, which she picked up and read.

“Bedelia,

As you were so fond of the lemon muffins, I prepared another batch for you to enjoy for your breakfast. I am only sorry I was not able to deliver them to you personally this morning.

I will be engaged at the Capponi Library all day. An emergency meeting has been arranged for tonight at six o’clock concerning the disappearance of Professor Sogliato which I am required to attend, so I am afraid I will not be back in time for dinner. I have arranged for a car to pick you up at seven-thirty and drive you to the Teatro Niccolini, where I will meet you in plenty of time for Madame Butterfly. I am very much looking forward to attending with you.

Yours with the deepest affection,

Hannibal.”

Bedelia felt a wave of relief overcome her as she read the letter. The fact that Hannibal would be absent for the entire day meant she did not need to worry about him become suspicious of her ahead of her imminent departure. It also gave her the opportunity to ensure that everything was in place before she left for the opera, so nothing would impede her late-night escape from the city.

The letter also induced a pang of sadness akin to grief, which she forced herself to ignore, placing the missive in the pocket of her silk robe and making her way towards the coffee machine. Although she was hungry, she did not feel up to eating, the prospect making her feel incredibly nauseous. She also did not want to risk causing Hannibal to become suspicious of her condition by vomiting on him in the theatre.

After drinking two cups of very strong coffee, Bedelia found the caffeine taking effect almost immediately, much to her relief. She then left the kitchen and made her way towards the main bathroom, intending on having one last bath in the antique tub with the golden taps.

However, the combination of the strong coffee and her fear and anxiety at her impending deception made it impossible for Bedelia to relax, much less enjoy her bath. She remained in the bath, lying perfectly still and listening to the soothing sound of moving water, until it was too cold for her to remain there a moment longer.

Bedelia then slowly got out of the bath and quickly dried herself, before wrapping herself in a silk robe and towel-drying her hair. She then spent a relaxing forty five minutes drying and styling her hair and applying her make-up, which thankfully concealed her exhaustion. The only tell-tale sign of her tiredness was the slight redness of her eyes, but there was nothing she could do about that, and she hoped it would reduce as the day wore on.

Bedelia then picked up her mobile phone and checked the time, and was slightly surprised to find that it was already half-past eleven. She unlocked the device and opened her emails, quickly selecting the confirmation of her plane ticket order, and then double-checking the details of her electronic boarding pass. Everything was correct and in order. The ticket was electronic, her bags were packed, and she had more than sufficient funds in both pound sterling and euros. All she had to do was get through the day.

A low rumble from her stomach distracted Bedelia from her thought processes, and for a moment she considered going into the kitchen and helping herself to the lemon muffins. But despite her knowledge that everything was in place for her departure, she was feeling nervous and deeply unsettled, and the prospect of eating caused her already delicate stomach to threaten another revolt, which she absolutely could not afford at such a crucial time. And so she ignored it, rising to her feet and making her way towards her wardrobe.

As this would be the last day she would ever spend in Florence, and as she desperately wanted a distraction, she wanted to have one last walk around the city. She hoped it would soothe her nerves and relax her enough to be able to rest for a couple of hours before the opera this evening, though she knew the chances of that happening were fairly unlikely.

Ignoring her concerns and forcing herself to focus on the matter at hand, Bedelia selected a midnight blue pencil dress from her wardrobe, which she had forgotten she owned. Smiling slightly, she laid it over the back of her dressing table chair and removed her robe, before selecting her underwear and putting it on, much to her body’s disdain.

Her favourite (and most expensive) black lace balcony bra felt tight against her sensitive breasts, which seemed to be getting fuller already. Ignoring this fact, Bedelia then pulled on her black lace control underwear, which were so uncomfortable she could not bear it. Wincing slightly, Bedelia walked slowly towards her full-length mirror and considered her reflection, her face dropping at the sight before her.

Her belly, which had until so recently had only the slightest swell, her become considerably rounder in the last couple of weeks. The slight swell at the base of her abdomen had now developed into a prominent curve, and the skin beneath her palm was defiantly hard and demanded acknowledgement. Whilst the control underwear evened out her shape, they were no longer able to conceal it altogether, and it was quite apparent that she was carrying some extra weight around her belly. The underwear were also so tight as to be almost painful, which would have been almost bearable had they continued to guard her secret, but they did not. And if she could notice it now, Hannibal most certainly would tonight.

Feeling her heart begin to race, Bedelia removed her underwear and selected the other three pairs of control underwear she owned, trying them each on in turn, and finding herself frustrated to experience the exact same result. She then reluctantly went back to her first choice of underwear, which was the least uncomfortable out of the others, though only just. She had been uncomfortable the day before whilst wearing these underwear, but certainly not to this degree. Was it possible she had gained weight overnight? She wondered, as she put on a pair of champagne-coloured tights and her favourite black Laboutins. Surely not.

Frowning, Bedelia turned away from the mirror and picked up the blue dress from her bed, undid the zip at the side and stepped into it. As soon as she pulled the dress over her body she felt the tightness of it against her belly, and her instincts were to remove the dress immediately. However, Bedelia ignored such a notion, and began to draw the zip up at her side. Much to her frustration, the zip stopped halfway up and stubbornly refused to move any higher, despite Bedelia battling with it for several minutes. Sighing with frustration, Bedelia looked down at herself and found her eyes drawn to the sight of her rounded belly, which appeared quite prominent in the dress. Her breath caught in her throat and her movements stilled, as she stared down at herself in disbelief, transfixed by her body’s defiance. Although it could be attributed to simple weight gain, to Bedelia, her condition was quite apparent in this dress, despite the painful control underwear she was wearing.

Bedelia’s breath hitched and she pulled the zip down with such force that she broke it, which only served to increase her ire, prompting her to quickly remove the dress and kick it into the bin in the corner of her room. Frowning and slightly flushed, Bedelia consulted her wardrobe once again and removed three potential dress which were all loosely fitted around the waist and belly. For her, at least.

However, after trying on the dark green pencil dress and a deep red A-line one, Bedelia found herself experiencing the exact same issues she had just had with the dark blue dress. Even her black cocktail dress, which she had worn just a few days before, was now too tight to be comfortable, despite the fact that it did still conceal her rounded belly.

Bedelia removed the black dress and threw it onto her bed in anger, before putting her head in her hands and weeping in frustration. One more day, that was all she needed, less than twenty-four hours to conceal her condition to ensure that Hannibal did not discover it, and her body would not even permit her that. After today she could buy looser fitting and more comfortable clothing, and she vowed that she would not wear control underwear for the rest of her pregnancy, but today it was essential. She felt angry and betrayed and on the verge of panic, and her uncharacteristic descent into an emotional breakdown upset her even more, causing her to lose control almost completely. Instead, he allowed herself five minutes to indulge her emotions before risking a descent into panic, before forcing herself to take a deep breath and calm herself. 

Wiping away her tears and taking a few deep breaths, Bedelia walked calmly towards her wardrobe and considered it once more. After some deliberation, she removed a black skirt and black lace blouse, which she put on with trepidation. The skirt, whilst closely fitted, was fairly comfortable, and the blouse was both complementary of the skirt and flattering of her figure, despite her condition. Bedelia felt relief overwhelm her as she considered her reflection in the mirror from all angles, and quickly reassured herself that her secret was quite safe with her outfit of choice. Sighing in relief, Bedelia walked slowly back towards her wardrobe and went to close it, when a sight from within it caused her stomach to drop.

The claret-coloured floor length evening gown which she was planning on wearing to the opera tonight was staring at her mockingly, almost taunting her. The gown went in at the waist and was closely-fitted about the middle, and Bedelia was sure that no control underwear in the world would be able to conceal her four months’ pregnant belly in that dress. With a trembling hand, Bedelia went through the rail and examined her other evening dresses, each one seeming to be more fitted than the last. Sighing in frustration as she stared blankly into the wardrobe, Bedelia found herself at a loss as to what to do.

The most obvious option, of course, was to buy a new dress which would conceal her pregnancy. But such a dress would need to be loose-fitting about the middle, and this alone would arouse Hannibal’s suspicions. He was an observant man with impeccable taste, and he knew hers well. There had been several occasions when he had purchased a garment for her, and it had been so perfect, she knew for certain she would have bought it herself had she found it. In fact, the claret-coloured Erdem dress she had planned to wear tonight was one that he had bought her. And she didn’t even need to try it on to know that it would not fit.

Taking a deep breath to prevent herself from descending into panic, Bedelia considered her dilemma for a several minutes in the desperate hope of finding an answer.

Unfortunately, and against her better judgement, only one option presented itself.

Bedelia removed her purple coat from the wardrobe and put it on, before collecting her handbag and sunglasses and hurrying out of the apartment.

After hailing a taxi into the city, Bedelia paid the driver and made her way to a familiar boutique which had become one of her favourites in Florence: ‘Bello Te’, an exclusive lingerie store.

Bedelia greeted the familiar sales women with a few words and a smile, before walking reluctantly towards the back of the store, where she knew the item she needed was kept. She found it with little difficulty, as she knew she would.

On a display in front of Bedelia were a selection of waist trainers, each in different designs and colours. Despite the nervous ache in her stomach which she attributed to nausea, and the fact that every instinct inside her was screaming not to, she found herself reaching for one of the plainer designs. The waist trainer she selected was black and had a corset-like appearance, the only colour adding to the design being the three columns of hooks and eyes. It felt a little heavier than she had expected, though the size and style meant that it could be discreet, and she was confident that she could wear it beneath her dress without Hannibal realising. She was not going to use it to narrow her waist, but simply to conceal her belly. It wouldn’t be too tight, and it would only be for a couple of hours, everything would be fine.

And yet something deep inside of Bedelia told her that it wouldn’t, and implored her to put it back, turn around, and leave the store without a backward glance.

But she didn’t.

 _Pregnant women used to wear corsets centuries ago_ , she reminded herself, _and those_ _were made from whale bone and fastened incredibly tightly throughout even later stages of pregnancy, and this is certainly not a corset_. _I am only four months’ pregnant, and the baby, which is tiny, will be perfectly safe_ , she reasoned. _My body is designed to protect the baby, and to keep it safe, and it will. It’s just for a few hours, just for tonight_ , she thought, repeating the words to herself internally, like a mantra. _The baby will be fine. Hannibal discerning my condition and my plans to leave would be a far greater risk to the child than a few hours in this_ , she considered. _And I don’t have a choice_.

And so, despite her instincts and the nagging doubt which was tearing apart her attempts at logical reassurance, Bedelia carried the waist trainer over to the counter, smiled at the saleswoman as she paid the eye-watering figure in cash, and then left with the device in one of the boutique’s discreet yet elegant bags.

 _It’s just for a few hours, just for tonight_ , Bedelia repeated to herself internally, as she walked distractedly through the streets of Florence. _It’s going to be alright_.


	26. Chapter 26

After purchasing the waist trainer from the exclusive boutique, Bedelia spent over an hour walking around the streets of Florence, considering the now familiar sights with an absent gaze and limited interest. She was feeling nervous and guilty, and the feeling of impending dread which she had been trying so hard to supress throughout the day rose within her with each minute that passed, until finally it felt so strong it could suffocate her.

Bedelia was just considering heading to the train station and making her way back to the apartment when she was overcome by a strong wave of dizziness, which drew the breath from her body and made her limbs feel as heavy as lead. She lost her footing slightly and reached out for a nearby lamppost to steady herself, offering a polite smile and few slurred words of assurance to the kindly businessman who asked her if she was alright. She felt his hand on her upper arm, which had the effect of both grounding her and bringing her sharply back to her senses.

“Thank you, I’m quite alright” she assured him in hastily spoken Italian. “Thank you” she repeated, before stepping out of his grasp and walking unsteadily past him, continuing her way along the street and heading to the nearest taxi rank.

Bedelia opened the back door to the taxi at the front and eased herself into the seat, before placing her bags onto the seat beside her and closing the door. She gave her address to the driver and leaned back as he began to drive, the motion soothing to her head, which was spinning. It was only when Bedelia opened her purse to remove the taxi fare and she caught sight of her watch that she realised the reason for her dizziness; it was almost two o’clock and she had not yet eaten. Despite the fact that she was feeling hungry, she was also still feeling rather nauseous and anxious, making the prospect of eating seem impossible. She was so engaged in considering the matter further that the taxi driver had to polite inform her that they had arrived at her apartment. She blinked herself out of her reverie and thanked him, tipping him generously and collecting her bags, before easing herself out of the back of the taxi and walking slowly towards her apartment building.

By the time Bedelia set foot in the apartment she was feeling utterly exhausted. Despite her deep-seated feeling of nausea, the extent of her dizziness was beginning to concern her, so she made her way into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, which she drank slowly. She then prepared a coffee for herself using the machine and, as it was pouring, turned her attentions towards the island. Her stomach growled demandingly as the stared at the lemon muffins, the citric scent so strong she could taste it in the air. Bedelia picked one up and drew it to her mouth, taking one hesitant bite and then another, before finding her hunger overwhelming her completely, and she quickly ate the entire thing. She was about to pick up another when a familiar feeling overcame her, and she hurried to the sink just in time to be considerably sick, bringing up the water and lemon muffin which had only just passed her lips.

After several minutes, when her stomach had finally settled once more, Bedelia felt tears of frustration sting her eyes. She was anxious and upset and utterly exhausted, and it was only a few hours until she would have to start getting ready for the opera. After turning on the tap and washing away all evidence of her sickness, Bedelia picked up her cup of strong black coffee and poured it away too, before picking up her bags and carrying them into her bedroom. She placed both bags down by the foot of her bed, unable to bear the thought of looking at the waist trainer, the prospect still filling her with guilt. Instead, she resigned herself to her fate; if her body would not let her eat, the least it could do was allow her to sleep, just for an hour or so.

Bedelia closed the heavy curtains which bathed the room in darkness, prompting her to kick off her shoes and walk slowly towards her bed. She undid the zip at the side of her skirt, which felt considerably more comfortable and far less restricting, and lay down upon the bed, resting on her side and facing the windows. As she did so, she draped her right hand instinctively over her abdomen, her heavy eyelids opening as she registered the action. Looking down, she moved her hand down and splayed her fingers across the prominent curve. Her skin felt so strong and warm beneath her touch. Bedelia inhaled a shaken breath and stroked her belly tenderly for a couple of minutes, until her exhaustion overcame her completely, and she drifted off into a deep and dreamless slumber.

When Bedelia opened her eyes, she felt sated and rested, and was immediately conscious of the passing of time. Feeling suddenly panicked, Bedelia pushed herself up and turned on the bedside light, staring tiredly at the clock beside her. It took her several seconds to register that the time was now half-past six, and her stomach dropped at the realisation: she only had an hour until she was getting picked up and driven to the opera.

Casting her covers aside, Bedelia leapt out of bed and hurried across the room and towards her ensuite, ignoring the strong wave of dizziness which overcame her, as she turned on the bathroom light and headed inside.

After changing into her black silk robe, Bedelia spent the next thirty minutes sitting at her dressing table, refreshing her make-up and styling her hair. She applied more concealer and foundation than usual, and she used make-up to accentuate her eyes, both in an attempt to detract from the tiredness of her features. She was pleasantly surprised with the outcome, and her favourite shade of red lipstick completed the look. She had arranged her hair into loose curls which fell just below her shoulders, appearing elegant and almost natural, and complementing her make-up perfectly. Checking her watch for the time, Bedelia then rose to her feet and selected her underwear for the evening, selecting her favourite black lace bra and matching underwear. Whilst the underwear fit comfortably (for the moment), the bra felt too tight against her tender breasts, reminding her of their increased fullness. However, the discomfort was mild and certainly bearable, and whilst tighter than usual the bra did fit her well enough. She then took her time in putting on a fresh pair of champagne stockings and black high-heels, before walking slowly towards the end of her bed, her stomach clenching tightly at the sight before her.

With great reluctance, Bedelia lifted the boutique bag up and placed it on her bed, shedding her robe and casting it aside, before removing the waist trainer from the bag. Bedelia held the garment in her hands for a moment, pressing her fingers into the material and drawing it apart. Every instinct she had was screaming at her not to do it, and the sight of her rounded belly caused guilt to overwhelm her almost completely.

 _I don’t have a choice_ , she reminded herself, speaking the words internally like a mantra, _it will only be for a few hours_.

Swallowing hard, Bedelia drew the waist trainer around herself and drew the edges together, relief flooding her that it actually would fit her. She ran her hand down the front of the garment, feeling her belly pressing defiantly against the material. Ignoring a sudden stinging in her eyes, Bedelia then secured the hooks and eyes on the loosest of the three settings. Although the device fit her and altered the shape of her body enough to conceal her condition completely, Bedelia found herself feeling more shame than relief as she looked at her reflection. The waist trainer felt tight around her belly, but not bearably so. It brought in her belly and her waist, highlighting her narrow waist and making her stomach appear quite flat. There was something deeply unsettling about it, and Bedelia’s guilt increased tenfold. She placed her hand over the centre of her belly, feeling material and metal instead of her rounded tummy, and her hand trembled. Bedelia blinked back the tears which were forming in her eyes and forced her attentions away from her mirror, walking towards the wardrobe and removing the claret-coloured Erdem evening dress which she would be wearing that evening.

The dress was stunning and one of her most favourite garments, but she felt nothing but sadness as she put it on and secured it. The material flowed perfectly over her body, coming in at the waist and clinging to her curves before trailing to the ground. It was rather low cut, and her fuller breasts made it appear even more alluring. As Bedelia smoothed down the material over her stomach, she returned to her full-length mirror and stared at her reflection. The dress fit her beautifully, and the waist trainer gave her a perfect hour-glass figure. As she turned to the side and considered her reflection from all angles, she felt relieved that the fact she was wearing such a garment beneath her dress was not discernible. At least, not to anyone but herself. Because it was already feeling a little too tight to be comfortable, but the discomfort was bearable.

 _It has to be_ , Bedelia reminded herself. _Because I don’t have a choice._

After selecting a black fur stole to complete the look, Bedelia put her phone, purse, keys and lipstick into her black Chanel clutch bag, before tidying her bedroom and making her way into the parlour.

Bedelia spent the next twenty minutes walking around the apartment to acclimatise herself to the waist trainer. She sat down on the dining room chair and on the couch, experimenting with the most comfortable ways in which she could stand and recline, and finding that there were very few. The opera had not even started yet and she could already not wait to tear the waist trainer from her body. The only comfort it provided her was a willing distraction from the terrifying realisation that she would be fleeing Florence – and Hannibal – in less than twelve hours’ time.

At twenty-five past seven, Bedelia inhaled deeply and let out a long breath, before making her way out of the apartment and locking the door behind her. After taking the elevator down to the ground floor, she walked down the stone steps onto the street, just as a sleek black Mercedes with tinted windows drew up outside the apartment. The driver’s door opened and a tall, handsome man in an expensive suit made his way around the vehicle and stepped onto the pavement. He looked up at her and met her gaze, blushing slightly as she caught his eyes lingering over her body for just a few moments more than was polite.

“Signora Fell?” he enquired, his voice deep and confident. Bedelia smiled politely.

“Si, sona la Signora Fell” she confirmed, as she drew her fur stole closer to her and made her way towards the car, her heels clicking rhythmically upon the ground.

The driver opened the door to the pack of the car for her and nodded politely.

“Grazi” Bedelia said gently, smiling at him once more, as she eased herself into the back seat. It was only once the door was closed behind her that she realised she was not alone.

“Buona serata” came a familiar voice, prompting Bedelia to gasp as she turned towards the seat beside her, finding a pair of intelligent dark eyes staring back at her.

“Hannibal” Bedelia breathed, surprise evident in her tone and expression, her stomach plummeting as he smiled at her. He was immaculately dressed in black tie and he looked incredibly alluring. “I thought we were meeting at the Teatro Niccolini?” she said, stammering slightly, his presence taking her completely off-guard.

“I was, but thankfully the meeting finished earlier than expected” Hannibal explained, his voice warm and confident. Bedelia felt her heart begin to race, yet her tension soon began to dissipate, and her body relaxed at his presence. “So I called Tomas and asked him to collect me from the Capponi Library” he advised. “I didn’t want you to arrive by yourself if it was avoidable” he added politely.

Bedelia felt Hannibal’s hand upon her thigh, and her breathing deepened, her body reacting most strongly to his touch.

“You look beautiful tonight, Bedelia” Hannibal said warmly, sincerity present in his voice and expression.

“Just tonight?” Bedelia teased, finally regaining her composure once more as the car drove through Florence. She placed her hand over his and laced their fingers, partly out of a need to touch him, and also to ensure that his hand did not stray too far.

“Every night” Hannibal assured her without hesitation. Bedelia smiled softly, and Hannibal drew one of her away from her face. “I’m sorry you had to dine alone tonight” he added. Bedelia’s breath caught in her throat.

“It’s fine” she responded, ignoring the seemingly endless feeling of hunger she had been suffering with all day, which her body had forbade her from fulfilling. It was only after a few moments consideration that she realised Hannibal had not responded, and his gaze was fixed upon her.

“You’re rather pale, Bedelia” he remarked, stroking his cheek tenderly with his finger as he did so, concern present in his voice.

“I’m fine” Bedelia responded confidently, “thank you for arranging this, Hannibal” she added politely, in an attempt to change the subject. She edged closer to him and tilted her head up towards his, “I’ve been looking forward to this all day” she purred, placing her clutch bag in her lap and using her now free right hand to stroke Hannibal’s inner thigh suggestively, as she captured his lips in a searing kiss.

Hannibal moaned lightly in response and returned the kiss with equal fervour, cupping her cheek with his hands and losing his fingers in her hair. As Bedelia leaned towards Hannibal she felt the restrictive garment she was wearing dig into her belly, feeling impossibly tight. She gasped against the kiss, before breaking it completely. Hannibal’s eyes opened immediately and darted across her face curiously.

“Are you alright?” he asked breathlessly. Bedelia recovered herself quickly and smiled.

“You’re wearing my lipstick” she informed him, smiling as she wiped it from his lips.

Hannibal smirked in response and removed a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and began to remove the crimson stain from his lips, as Bedelia applied a fresh coat to her own. Hannibal and Bedelia remedied their appearances just as the car pulled up outside the Teatro Niccolini. The driver got out of the car and opened the door for Bedelia, offering her his hand and drawing her out of the vehicle and onto her feet. Hannibal appeared behind her a moment later and offered her his arm, which she accepted, smiling at him as they walked together up the stone steps.

Whilst being completely oblivious to the fact that he would be carrying her unconscious body down them just two hours later.


	27. Chapter 27

Bedelia adjusted her black fur stole around herself and linked her arm through Hannibal’s, inhaling deeply as he led her between the decadent stone pillars and up the steps into the Teatro Niccolini.

As she stepped over the threshold and into the opera house, she found herself standing amongst dozens of people, all elegantly dressed and talked animatedly between themselves. Whilst opulent and beautiful, with white stone staircases, thick red carpeting and upholstery and adornments of gold, the entrance hall was loud, hot and filled with an overpowering smell of a mixture of expensive perfumes and colognes. Finding herself feeling very hot and rather dizzy, Bedelia inhaled deeply to calm herself, but found her attempts immediately inhibited by the restrictive waist trainer, which seemed to be getting tighter by the moment, which issued her with another painful reminder of its presence. Bedelia inhaled sharply and squeezed her clutch bag tight in response, inadvertently gripping Hannibal’s arm tighter too, prompting him to look down upon her enquiringly. She saw concern and interest in his intelligence eyes, and found herself once more on the brink of panic.

“Are you alright?” Hannibal asked quietly, his voice calm and his concern sincere. She looked rather distracted and unusually pale.

Bedelia smiled softly and held his gaze with a confidence she did not feel, whilst fighting a strong urge to flee, to run from this beautiful yet stifling building, and take deep breaths of the Florentine air.

“It’s rather hot down here, and very crowded” Bedelia explained, her voice reaching him despite the noise of chatter around them. “Might we find our seats?”

“Of course” Hannibal responded without hesitation, as he led Bedelia away from the crowd and towards the staircase to the right, her heels clicking on the black and white tiled floor.

Bedelia felt her heart begin to race in her chest, as she took in small, calming breaths to sooth herself. It had simply been too hot and too crowded downstairs, and the melded scents of all those perfumes and colognes were too strong, and almost sickening; for a moment she had been worried she might become nauseous and vomit onto the beautiful tiled floor in the presence of Florence’s most elegantly-dressed elite, which she imagined would be quite the faux-pas indeed. Thankfully, the higher she got up the staircase the cooler and calmer she became, and the remnants of nausea she had been experiencing soon abated. She was still feeling rather dizzy, which she attributed to nerves and her lack of sustenance during the day. She’d be fine in a moment, if she could only sit down.

As they reached the top of the staircase Bedelia was distracted by the presence of an usher standing at the entrance to the doorway leading to the opera boxes. She smiled politely as Hannibal greeted the older, well-dressed man in Italian and provided him with their tickets. The older man smiled warmly at her and greeted her, which she returned, as he led them both along a dimly lit passageway and into their opera box, drawing back the curtain to reveal it. It was a comfortably size space between the white stone walls, with the same thick red carpet and gold and red chairs as she had seen downstairs. It was just four boxes away from the stage and felt cool and comfortable, and Bedelia found herself experiencing a strong and immediate desire to sit down.

“Grazi” Bedelia said politely, as she removed her arm from Hannibal’s and made her way towards the nearest chair, placing her hand on the arm of it and easing herself into the seat.

Bedelia placed her clutch bag on the table between the two chairs and removed her black fur stole, enjoying the feeling of cool air upon her skin. She was vaguely aware of Hannibal saying something quietly to the usher, but she could not quite make it out; and, indeed, she was somewhat distracted once again by the waist trainer, which seemed treacherously determined to remind her of its presence with increasing ardour as each moment passed. Whilst she could feel its constant presence around her rib cage and centre back, it was the tightness around her belly which provided her with the most discomfort and concern; it had not felt like this when she had put it on. Perhaps it was just because she was sitting down? Though, if it continued to be this tight, she may have to adjust the settings. But if she did, would it make her condition noticeable? She let out a long, slow breath and adjusted her position in her seat, finding one which was comfortable, and leaning back just as Hannibal joined her in the neighbouring seat. She smiled at him warmly and held his gaze, feeling herself being examined by his eyes as he sat beside her.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Hannibal asked gently, Bedelia’s chest tightening at the sincerity of his concern. She smiled reassuringly and held his gaze.

“I’m fine, Hannibal” Bedelia replied, surprised by the confidence of her own voice. “I didn’t sleep very well last night, I’m a little tired, that’s all” she explained. Hannibal seemed to consider her response for a few moments, before nodding once in acknowledgement, his expression softening with acceptance.

“Signora” came the polite and familiar voice of the usher, prompting Bedelia to turn towards him as he entered the opera box. Before she could speak, the usher placed a tall glass containing ice and lemon onto the table, and began to pour cold water into it from a glass decanter. “I am sorry, Signora, it is quite hot this time of year” he added apologetically. Bedelia looked up at him with gratitude as he finished pouring the drink, and then placed the decanter on the table beside it. He then placed two crystal glasses of champagne onto the table too.

“Grazi” Bedelia said sincerely, offering a smile to the usher, who nodded in response and then vanished as quickly and as quietly as he arrived. She then turned towards Hannibal, who held her gaze with an unreadable expression.

“I told the usher you were feeling quite warm, and requested some cold water be brought to you” Hannibal explained simply. Bedelia smiled gratefully.

“Thank you, Hannibal” she responded. Hannibal nodded in acknowledgement.

“Of course” he responded easily. “There is also champagne, if you prefer” he added with a small smile, which Bedelia returned.

“Perhaps later” she responded, after the briefest of hesitations. “I fear it might make me fall asleep” she confided, earning a small smile from Hannibal. “And I hardly think the other guests would like to be distracted by my snoring” she added lightly. Hannibal’s smile grew, and he reached for the glass of water and handed it to Bedelia.

“You don’t snore” Hannibal replied, as Bedelia accepted the glass from him. Did he imagine it, or did he detect a slight tremor in her hand as she accepted it? Perhaps it was simply the temperature of the water, which was indeed ice cold.

“I do after too much champagne” Bedelia responded lightly, as she took a few sips of the water, and found herself beginning to relax almost immediately.

Hannibal and Bedelia spent the next ten minutes talking casually, discussing their respective days and then moving onto the subject of _Madame Butterfly_ itself, which they had both seen before. Bedelia punctuated their conversations with frequent sips of the water, which was indescribably soothing, and she found herself relaxing further still. This was greatly assisted by the fact that she had found a seating position which the waist trainer did not seem to object to; in fact, the discomfort was minimal, and no longer painful as it had threatened to become before, though she would continue to monitor this of course.

Knowing that the opera was going to start in just a few minutes, Bedelia took a final few sips of the water before placing the glass back down upon the table. After doing so, she felt Hannibal’s familiar hand in her own, capturing her fingers and entwining them with his own. Bedelia held his hand instinctively and looked up to meet his gaze.

“You truly are beautiful tonight, Bedelia” Hannibal said warmly, his voice imbued with affection and sincerity. “You’re quite radiant” he advised, as he drew her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.

Bedelia felt a stab of panic followed by wave upon wave of deep, all-consuming guilt. Hannibal’s sincerity and his kindness, combined with the memories of their lovemaking from the night before, caused her heart to ache. But she forced herself to ignore it, instead smiling softly and releasing her hand from his, cupping his cheek and splaying her fingers across his skin, which was soft and warm and heartbreakingly familiar. He placed his hand over hers and held it gently against his own skin, their eyes locked, their breathing deepening. For a moment, Bedelia feared losing control of herself and her emotions completely, and it was therefore a great relief to her that the lights began to dim, bathing herself and Hannibal in almost complete darkness. Hannibal squeezed her hand and then released it, prompting Bedelia to reclaim it as her own, and turn her attentions towards the stage. The chatter around them lowered and then disappeared altogether, as the heavy red curtains of the stage slowly parted and the space between was bathed in light, and Bedelia stared at the opening scene with tears in her eyes.

For the first half an hour, Bedelia found herself becoming deeply immersed in the opera, which was a favourite of hers. She was as captivated now as she had been the first time she had seen it, and she quickly found herself becoming lost in the familiar plot. However, Bedelia’s calmness and enjoyment was not destined to last.

As the opera progressed, Bedelia found herself feeling increasingly uncomfortable and light-headed, with frequent but mild bouts of nausea adding to her discomfort. She had shifted in her seat on two occasions to try and find a more comfortable position which would provide her with some relief from the waist trainer, which was feeling quite tight around her belly, but to no avail. Although she had tried to be subtle and was aided by the dimness of the opera booth and Hannibal’s engagement in the performance, the second time she adjusted her seating position she felt Hannibal’s eyes upon her, and she was wary about arousing his suspicions by making a third attempt. She therefore decided to take a sip of water which she did not really require, which provided her with the pretext of moving forwards towards the table and then back towards her seat, making any adjustment of her position seem incidental. She also decided to hold onto the glass to provide her with a reason to change her position for a fourth time, should it be required, which she desperately hoped it would not.

Although typically shown in three acts, this particular adaptation of Madame Butterfly was honouring the original by showing it in two acts instead, with a twenty-minute intermission at the end of the first act. Hannibal had informed Bedelia of this fact shortly before the opera started, and as time wore on, she found it occupying her mind so completely that she struggled to concentrate on the performance itself.

As the performance progressed, Bedelia found that the waist trainer was making its presence increasingly known, despite a fairly promising start. It felt too closely fitted around her waist and almost tight against her belly, and she wondered whether this was somehow attributable to the light-headedness she was currently experiencing, as well as a somewhat frequent sensation of breathlessness. She discarded such concerns and attributed them to her overthinking of the situation given her anxiety at wearing the waist trainer in the first place, and decided that her light-headedness was more likely to be due to the fact that she had not eaten that day, due to a combination of nerves and nausea.

Bedelia was so preoccupied with her increasing feelings of general unwellness that she registered very little of the last fifteen minutes of the first act. Indeed, she scarcely registered that the intermission had begun until the lights came back on, brightly and suddenly, and drew her quickly out of her stupor. She placed the half-drank glass of water onto the table with a trembling hand and looked up just as Hannibal rose to his feet.

“They are serving refreshments in the room opposite during the intermission” Hannibal informed Bedelia, as he offered her his hand. “If you would care to accompany me?” he asked gently.

Bedelia picked up her clutch bag and smiled in agreement and nodded, accepting Hannibal’s hand and allowing him to guide her to her feet, which she regretted immediately, a strong wave of dizziness overcoming her. She concealed this by linking her arm through Hannibal’s as they had before and leaning against him lightly, and allowing him to lead her out of the opera box.

As Bedelia walked across the carpeted hallway and into the room opposite, she found herself feeling rather dizzy and shaken, her limbs feeling heavy and her vision somewhat blurry. She blinked several times and took in as deep a breath as the waist trainer would permit, before releasing it slowly just as she and Hannibal stepped over the threshold and entered the room.

Hannibal and Bedelia were greeted almost immediately by two handsome and well-dressed waiters carrying silver salvers, the first one offering champagne, the second providing a selection of canapes of pastry, cheese and salmon. The strong scents of the fish and the cheese ignited Bedelia’s nausea, and she felt hot panic overcome her immediately, and it took all of her self-control not to flee the room as her instincts commanded.

“No, grazi” Hannibal said politely, perceiving Bedelia’s hesitation as a decline. Bedelia thanked the waiters absently and allowed Hannibal to guide her further into the room, where dozens of the attendees were already flocking. “Would you like to sit down?” Hannibal asked politely. “You’re looking rather pale” he observed.

“No, I’m fine” Bedelia responded, in a harsher tone than she had intended. She looked up at Hannibal and found him looking at her calmly, interest and concern in his eyes and expression, but not a trace of anger and annoyance. She was about to apologise when the dizziness she was feeling increased exponentially, and she breathed in deeply in a desperate attempt to reduce it, which resulted only in further discomfort across her belly and an increased sensation of faintness. In that moment, Bedelia found herself beginning to panic.

“Bedelia” Hannibal said quietly, placing his hand on her hip just a couple of inches below where the bottom of the waist trainer rested, the proximity drawing her immediately out of her stupor and prompting her to look up at him. “Is something wrong?” he asked, placing his fingers lightly across her forehead in the guise of stroking hair from her face. She was very pale, her heart rate had increased, and she was shaking.

“No, not at all” Bedelia responded calmly. As she looked into Hannibal’s eyes she realised that he did not believe her, and any further attempts to convince him that she was perfectly alright would be both futile and offensive. She knew she needed to get out of this room and remove the waist trainer, which she judged to be the cause of her discomfort and light-headedness. “I’ll be back in a moment, I just need to go to the bathroom” she said softly, offering him what she hoped would be a reassuring smile. “Perhaps you could get us some drinks and I’ll join you in a few minutes” she suggested, removing her arm from Hannibal’s and walking briskly towards the doorway before he had chance to respond.

Hannibal watched Bedelia for a few moments, the urgency of her pace, combined with her paleness and breathlessness confusing and concerning him in equal measure. After a moment’s thought he turned on his heel and followed her out of the room, walking with calm determination and keeping her in his sight the entire time, as he tried to ignore the rising feelings of discomfort and concern which were rising within him.

As Bedelia stepped out of the room she found herself feeling incredibly light-headed, her limbs feeling weaker and heavier than before, and her breathing becoming more difficult. She placed her hand instinctively upon her belly and walked as quickly as she could towards the staircase, as the bathrooms were located on the floor below. Her steps were unsteady and her dizziness profound, and she felt her entire body begin to tremble. As she arrived at the top of the staircase she reached out for the banister with a trembling hand, closing her eyes for a moment to steady herself. She was vaguely aware of the sound of a voice behind her, which was loud and clear and reached her over the low chatter of conversation which she could hear in the room behind her, but her body would not permit her to do much more than simply acknowledge it, as her dizziness increased and darkness overcame her, the sensation of falling forwards being the last thing she was aware of before losing consciousness completely.

Hannibal reached Bedelia the moment she collapsed, his strong arms embracing her fallen body as she swayed perilously over the top step of the staircase, pulling her back from the precipice and into the safety of his embrace, her name escaping his lips in a breathless gasp.

"Bedelia."


	28. Chapter 28

Hannibal held Bedelia in a close embrace, before taking several steps back and drawing her further away from the staircase, as her body went worryingly limp within his grasp.

“Bedelia” Hannibal repeated, a slight waver present in his commanding tone, as he stared down at her closed eyes and observed no response.

Hannibal stared at Bedelia for a moment, before feeling her wrist for a pulse, which he quickly located and found to be rapid. With no obvious signs of illness or injury, other than the symptoms of dizziness and confusion which she had recently displayed, Hannibal placed one arm beneath Bedelia’s knees and one around her body, before lifting her up into his arms in a single fluid movement. He adjusted his hold upon her and turned upon the spot, before carrying her down the staircase with ease, and making his way briskly towards the door.

“Signor!” called an alarmed usher, who Hannibal recognised as being the one who had provided himself and Bedelia with drinks shortly before the first act. “Is Signora unwell? Shall I call an ambulance?” he asked in rapid Italian, his worried eyes darting between Hannibal and Bedelia.

“No, that won’t be necessary, thank you” Hannibal responded calmly, his tone causing the usher’s eyes to widen. “My wife suffers from low blood pressure, she has simply fainted” he lied. The usher looked visibly relieved and nodded rapidly in understanding. “Would you mind opening the door for me, please? I need to take her home to rest.”

“Si, Signor. Si” the usher responded, before hurrying towards the door and opening it wide for Hannibal, his worried gaze returning to the unconscious woman in his arms.

“Grazi” Hannibal responded with a small smile, as he walked briskly out of the building and into the night air, his polite smile disappearing as he descended the stone steps.

As Hannibal stepped onto the pavement and walked towards the row of luxury cars parked in front of the _Teatro_ , he drew Bedelia instinctively closer to shield her against the cool night air, before walking briskly towards his own rented car.

The driver, who he had instructed to remain outside the front of the building for the duration of the opera, spotted Hannibal in his rear view mirror, opened the door and quickly discarded the cigarette which he should not be smoking on duty, as he stepped out of the vehicle and walked around the car and stepped onto the pavement. Hannibal observed the same combination of curiosity and concern upon the driver’s expression as the usher’s just moments before, and he had very little patience with which to address it.

“My wife suffers from low blood pressure, and she has fainted” Hannibal informed the driver in perfect Italian, his voice so calm and matter-of-fact that the older gentleman believed the lie immediately. “Could you open the back door and drive us straight home, please?” he requested.

“Si, si” the driver responded, opening the back door and holding it steady as Hannibal gently eased Bedelia into the back seat, placing her in a sitting position to enable him to join her in the back and monitor her during the journey.

“Grazi” Hannibal replied, as he got into the back seat beside Bedelia. The driver closed the door behind him and Hannibal heard his footsteps disappear back towards the front of the car.

As the driver turned the key in the ignition and pulled away from the building, Hannibal turned his attentions towards Bedelia, lifting her head back and taking her pulse once more, which was still strong and rapid.

“Bedelia” Hannibal said, his voice calm and clear, “Bedelia, open your eyes” he commanded, his fingertips monitoring the pulse in her wrist as he spoke.

After receiving no response from Bedelia, Hannibal turned on the small overhead light and then placed his thumb over her left eyelid, slowly drawing it open. He was relieved to find that her pupil responded immediately to the light, and when he mirrored the action with her right eye he found the same result. He then placed his hands behind her head and carefully examined the back of her head with his fingertips, searching for any signs of injury; he knew that Bedelia was a proud woman and would not admit to having sustained an injury if she could conceal it. But after a brief yet thorough examination he found no bumps, abrasions or other sign of injury.

Relieved that Bedelia was therefore not displaying any symptoms of a head injury, neurological disorder or stroke, Hannibal’s mind was ablaze with other possibilities. She may, of course, have fainted a couple of weeks ago in the bathroom, despite having informed him that she had slipped on the wet floor. This, combined with her age and the fact she had been complaining of being hot, whilst being evidently breathless and her words slightly slurred, could indicate that she was peri-menopausal, which would certainly explaining the fainting and was consistent with the conclusion he had reached based on her first collapse and subsequent behaviour. Hannibal found himself feeling confident of this assessment, when his examination of her revealed something unexpected, which distracted him almost entirely.

As Hannibal placed his hand upon Bedelia’s waist, he found himself feeling not the warmness of her skin beneath the fabric of her dress, but a hard, immovable material which formed a layer between her skin and her clothing. Frowning slightly, Hannibal stroked the length of Bedelia’s waist, and felt the edge of the hard material at the top of her waist just beneath her breasts, and he traced it downwards and found it to be resting upon her hips. He drew his hand across her abdomen and felt the strong, hard material beneath his palm, which did not resist or yield if he applied gentle pressure. Whilst he was aware of the fact that Bedelia, like many women, sometimes wore control or body-sculpting underwear when wearing a particularly close-fitting garment, he realised immediately that this was not what she was wearing. What he felt beneath his palm seemed to him to be a corset, which would account for the texture and the tight-fittedness. However, he quickly determined that the dress was not corseted, nor would a corset fit beneath it without being almost immediately discernible, due to the style of the dress. So Hannibal stared at Bedelia, his hands exploring her abdomen and sides, as he tried to establish what it was she was wearing. And, almost as importantly, why.

Whatever it was that Bedelia was wearing felt entirely too tight against her body, and Hannibal found himself feeling a strong instinct to pull down her dress and remove it, whatever the offending garment may be. Perhaps she was indeed peri-menopausal and, as a result, had gained some weight which she was anxious to conceal. Bedelia was by no means vain, but she did take pride in her appearance, the hormonal changes would cause weight gain in her abdomen and hips, which he felt confident she would feel very self-conscious of. It would certainly explain her decision to wear whatever it was she was wearing beneath this dress in order to conceal it; which, in turn, would explain why she became breathless and lightheaded, and subsequently fainted.

Finding himself feeling confident of the answer to this particular mystery, Hannibal found himself calming considerably, relief flooding him and easing the worry and discomfort which ached deep within him. As the car pulled up outside the apartment, Hannibal quickly got out of the car and walked around it, before opening Bedelia’s door and lifting her up into his arms. He shut the door with his hips and thanked the driver, before walking briskly into the building, opening the door with his right hand and heading towards the elevator.

As he pressed the button and the antique doors slowly closed, Hannibal looked down upon the face of the unconscious Bedelia, which was calm and serene and utterly beautiful.

“Bedelia” Hannibal sighed gently, his eyes drifting from her face to her abdomen.

Once they were inside the apartment, he would carry her into his bedroom, lay her down upon the bed and lower her dress, before removing whatever garment or device it was she had employed to conceal the (almost certainly) small amount of weight she had gained. He would then change her into a comfortable nightdress and sit beside her, monitoring her closely throughout the night until she woke. Whilst he did not wish to make her feel embarrassed or chastised, he did want to assure her that any weight she had gained did not detract from her beauty in the slightest, and it certainly did not necessitate her employing the assistance of device of sartorial torture to conceal it.

The elevator came to a gradual stop and the doors slowly began to open, Hannibal drew Bedelia instinctively closer to him and carried her along the corridor and towards their apartment. After removing Bedelia’s keys from her clutch bag and opening the door, Hannibal stepped into the apartment and carried her through the dimly lit living space, his footsteps echoing into the darkness as he made his way towards the familiar room.

After opening the door and turning on the light with his shoulder, Hannibal’s bedroom was bathed in a warm artificial yellow glow, which had the unsettling effect of making Bedelia appear even paler than before. Hannibal felt a strong sense of unease at her worrying pallor, but he quickly dismissed it, forcing himself to remember that he had diagnosed the condition which was ailing her, and would shortly be remedying it.

Hannibal made his way towards his bed and lay Bedelia down carefully on top of the sheets, removing one of the two pillows from beneath her head so that she was lying almost completely flat. Her body was still limp and pliant, and she lay perfectly still, her limbs remaining where they fell as he lay her down. He checked her pulse again, which was still strong and was thankfully beginning to stabilise. Hannibal then removed his suit jacket and placed it over a nearby chair, before removing his cufflinks and rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.

Hannibal placed his hands on Bedelia’s abdomen and examined her once again over the fabric of her dress, applying gentle pressure to her body as his ministrations outlined the shape of the device beneath. Frowning with concern, Hannibal then placed his right hand on Bedelia’s waist and moved upwards, quickly finding the zipper and pulling it down. He then carefully eased Bedelia’s left arm out of the dress, and then the right, before drawing the material over her chest with practiced hands, revealing her black lace bra. Hannibal’s eyes drifted from her breasts, which he observed appeared fuller, immediately towards the top of her waist, where the top of the black device she was wearing was revealed. It was clear from even this angle that it was far too tight, as the skin beneath it was noticeable red and sore, the garment was almost cutting into her skin. Hannibal pulled the dress down more keenly than he had intended, causing a slight ripping sound, which he ignored, instead drawing the material down Bedelia’s body until he reached her hips.

As Hannibal let go of the claret-coloured soft material of the dress, his eyes drifted up towards the device which Bedelia was wearing, which caused something inside him to ache. It was a black, corset-like device, with three columns of hooks and eyes down the centre. He observed that the device was secured on the tightest of the three settings, and Bedelia’s natural hourglass figure into an even more tightly sculpted version of itself. Whilst Hannibal was not averse to corsets or their equivalent under ordinary circumstances, this device – which he did not recognise and could not identify – looked far too tight to be comfortable. Indeed, as he looked down upon her body, which was red beneath the top and bottom of the device, it became perfectly apparent why she had fainted. It was a wonder she had not collapsed far sooner.

After a few moments’ curious examination of the device Bedelia was wearing, Hannibal found himself unable to restrain his strong desire to remove it to assist Bedelia, and he quickly undid all of the hooks from top to bottom, freeing Bedelia’s body from its cruel restraint. After undoing the final hook, Hannibal pushed both sides of the device apart, revealed Bedelia’s bare skin beneath it. As he looked down upon her, he hesitated for a moment, his breath catching in his throat and his stomach dropping at the sight before him.

Instead of finding himself looking at the familiar sight of Bedelia’s flat and toned abdomen, Hannibal’s eyes drifted over a prominent and tell-tale swell for her belly, which he realised immediately was not due to simple weight gain.

Hannibal’s usually sharp, analytical mind failed him almost completely for several moments, as he stared in shock and the prominent curve, the cause of which was perfectly obvious, but that he could not quite believe.

It wasn’t possible. How could it be possible? And how could a device such as the one she was wearing conceal her undeniably prominent belly?

Blinking himself out of his stupor, Hannibal slowly drew his right hand towards Bedelia’s belly, and placed it down gently upon her bare skin. Instead of feeling the soft, flabby flesh associated with simple weight gain, Hannibal felt strong, taut skin beneath his fingers, which confirmed a diagnosis he had only recently arrived at but was too shocked to believe could be true. Hannibal extended his fingers and cradled Bedelia’s swollen belly, feeling the warm, strong skin beneath his palm, as he drew his hand down past her naval and towards the base of her belly, which he cradled.

Letting out a small gasp of breath, Hannibal felt his legs suddenly weaken, and he eased himself slowly down onto the bed, his hand not leaving Bedelia’s belly as he did so. He stared at her curved belly as though hypnotised, in some kind of trance, as his mind tried to make sense of what he already knew to be true. From the size of her belly, Hannibal estimated that Bedelia was around fifteen or sixteen weeks pregnant, which coincided with their arrival in Florence.

Hannibal’s mouth became suddenly dry, and he swallowed hard, his eyes fixed upon the centre of her belly. The device which she had inflicted upon herself had left three columns of marks down the middle of her belly, the hooks having dug into her smooth skin, marking it in a way which seemed to Hannibal to be an abomination. Frowning, and with great reluctance, Hannibal removed his hand from Bedelia’s belly, mourning the loss of warm and the feeling of the delicate swell against his palm almost immediately. He then rose to his feet and leaned over Bedelia, lifting her up slightly, as he removed the undone garment from beneath her and placed it onto the chair beside him, out of sight. He then carefully lowered her down onto the bed once more, his eyes drifting from her face to her belly.

How was it possible that he had not discerned her condition, when she was already so far along? And, more importantly, why had she concealed it from him, at great physical expense and danger to herself and their baby?

With a mind ablaze with questions and memories of Bedelia’s behaviour and actions and fainting from previous weeks which he had wrongly attributed to the menopause, Hannibal sat on the edge of the bed once again, his eyes fixed upon Bedelia’s rounded belly, which seemed even more prominent without the harmful casing of that cruel device.

Although it was unlikely, he knew that he needed to examine Bedelia to ensure that the device had not harmed the baby, as well as confirm precisely how far along she was. Hannibal therefore placed his right hand on her belly once again, before placing his left hand beside it, and applying gentle pressure as he palpated her abdomen. He was calculating the fundal height when he was immediately distracted by movement from the previously unconscious Bedelia.

Having remained unconscious since collapsing in the theatre, Bedelia found herself slowly returning to consciousness, her breathing feeling easier and her body cooler as she slowly began to wake. However, before she was fully conscious, she was aware of the sensation of familiar hands upon her rounded belly, which felt bare and exposed, these facts filling her with cold fear which tore her abruptly out of her recovering state.

Bedelia pushed at the hands with all her might, instinctively pushing them away from her belly as terror consumed her, her fears confirmed when she opened her eyes and found Hannibal standing over her, his hands holding her wrists as he began to address her. His face bore an expression she did not recognise, but she saw intelligence and determination in his eyes. And something else which, if it hadn’t been Hannibal, she would have identified as fear.

“Bedelia, no, stop” he commanded, his voice authoritative yet unexpectedly gentle. “I need you to relax” he soothed, holding her hands securely but not tightly. Bedelia’s terrified eyes filled with tears and she continued to fight against him, whimpering slightly as she pushed him away with all her might, which was limited due to her weakness. She felt herself being dragged back towards the unconscious, but she resisted it for as long as she could, locking eyes with Hannibal as she tried to push him away. “Bedelia-”

“Don’t” Bedelia gasped, her voice weak and her speech slurred as it had been before, as she held onto him with trembling hands, her eyes staring deeply into his. “Please don’t-” she pleaded breathlessly, her vision becoming blurry as her body weakened, his voice calling her name as her hands fell limply from his and she was pulled back into darkness.


	29. Chapter 29

Hannibal felt Bedelia’s hands go limp in his grasp, as her body surrendered itself to the unconscious once more. He stared at her face for several moments, the memories of her frightened eyes and terrified expression both haunting and confusing him in equal measure. Despite having been weak and disorientated, she had dug her nails deep into his skin and left crescent-shape marks on his wrists and forearms, in her desperate attempt to force his hands away from her belly. Hannibal ignored the stinging sensation arising from his wounds and gently lowered Bedelia’s hands onto the bed, taking her pulse as he watched her closely.

“Bedelia?” Hannibal asked, his voice clear but somewhat gravelly, much to his surprise. “Bedelia” he repeated, his tone more confident than before.

But Bedelia did not stir, nor did she react in any way at all to his calling of her name. Hannibal remained perfectly still and silent for ten seconds whilst he took her pulse, which was reassuringly strong and steady. He then gently lifted her eyelids once again, her pupils reacting to the light once more, which was a relief.

Hannibal found himself frozen to the spot as he stared at Bedelia for several moments, his eyes drifting from her face down her body, until his gaze rested upon her belly.

 _“Don’t”_ she’d pleaded, her voice low and breathless, desperation imbued deep within it. _“Please don’t”_.

Hannibal felt the crescent-shape wounds sting, and he glanced down at them with vague interest. There were four such marks on each of his arms, and three of them were deep enough to draw blood.

 _“Please don’t”_ she had pleaded, the words repeating themselves again and again in his mind as he desperately tried to make sense of them. She had fought him like a lioness protecting her cub; indeed, the fearful yet determined look in her eyes, which was seared into his memory, had been almost primal.

What exactly had Bedelia been asking him not to do? What had she been so afraid of? Hannibal found himself arriving at the only possible answer as he contemplated the third of his many questions: why had Bedelia not told him about her pregnancy? The only possible answer was seemingly confirmed by the terrified expression in her eyes which Hannibal would remember for the rest of his life.

It was because she was afraid of him.

At the prospect of his answer, which seemed plausible and incredibly likely, Hannibal found himself experiencing a cocktail of emotions which caused his normally calm and controlled manner of thinking to descend into chaos. He found himself experiencing sadness, hurt, fear, confusion, disappointment and something which felt an awful lot like grief. But Hannibal did not have the time nor the inclination to wallow in such emotions, especially not now, where there were far more pressing matters at hand.

Despite his shock at the revelation that Bedelia was pregnant, Hannibal found himself experiencing a moment of perfect clarity, forcing his emotions aside and adopting a calm and clinical stance to the current situation: Bedelia was forty-five years old, approximately four months’ pregnant, and she had collapsed. Technically, twice. Her physical wellbeing was of more critical importance to him than his own emotional one, and it was this logic will enabled him to adopt the role of her doctor, not her lover, in this shocking and completely unanticipated situation. He could not afford to be distracted by his thoughts and emotions at the present time, for Bedelia’s sake if not his own.

Hannibal found himself turning his attentions towards Bedelia’s belly once more, his hands upon her taut skin before he realised his actions. Remembering Bedelia’s terrified reaction the first time he had examined her, Hannibal cast a cautious glance towards his patient, who was clearly in a state of deep unconsciousness, and did not move or react in the slightest. This came as a relief to him, not simply as it enabled him to carry out the necessary examination, but also that it seemed to indicate that she was not experiencing any pain. Hannibal felt relief in this knowledge as he began to complete the examination which he had been forced to abandon several minutes before, palpating her abdomen in order to establish the fundal height, and therefore the stage of her pregnancy. Bedelia’s bare skin felt warm and firm beneath his touch, and he performed the examination with care and caution, his previous hypothesis being confirmed: Bedelia was indeed sixteen weeks into her pregnancy. She was on the smaller size of average considering the stage of her pregnancy, but given the fact she is naturally petite, physically fit and has strong abdominal muscles, it was perfectly normal for her to be a little smaller, and was no cause for concern.

Hannibal removed his hands slowly and with some reluctance from her belly, his gaze remaining fixed upon it. Despite her belly being modestly rounded, her condition was quite apparent, and the longer he stared at her the more he found himself questioning how he could not have suspected, much less realised that she was pregnant. How long had she known? How long had she been concealing this from him, and how, and why? And how had he misinterpreted her symptoms so greatly, and misdiagnosed her as experiencing perimenopause, with such confidence? How had he been so very, very wrong?

Forcing his emotionally-charged thoughts aside, Hannibal found himself considering the next stage of his examination of Bedelia, which was to establish whether she had suffered any bleeding. Hannibal’s stomach tightened at the prospect and he felt suddenly very warm; he knew that, if she was bleeding, it could be indicative of a miscarriage, the chance of which was higher in Bedelia’s case, as her age meant that this would be considered a high-risk pregnancy. He also knew that, if she was bleeding and experiencing a miscarriage, there would be nothing that he could do to prevent it.

Swallowing hard and forcing aside his emotions once more, Hannibal turned his attentions away from Bedelia’s face to her belly, and then lower still. He placed his hands upon the soft fabric of her dress and carefully drew it back, revealing her lower legs, thighs and hips. As Hannibal looked down at Bedelia’s pelvis, he felt a sudden rush of relief at the complete absence of blood on her inner thighs or elsewhere. Closing his eyes for a moment and letting out a slow breath, Hannibal covered Bedelia with her dress and permitted himself a few moments to relax. Though he categorically forbade himself to analyse his own reaction, and the extent of his relief. Instead, he stared down at the claret-coloured fabric, and considered the next step.

In most cases, it would be prudent to perform an internal examination on the patient to confirm the absence of bleeding and the pregnancy itself, but Hannibal found himself dismissing this option almost immediately. An internal examination seemed unnecessarily intrusive, and would simply confirm what he already knew to be true. More pressingly, it would likely distress Bedelia considerably, should she wake up during or realise after she woke. If the sensation of his hands upon her belly had somehow frightened her back to consciousness, the effects of performing such an invasive examination on her could be catastrophic. And so, not wanting to distress Bedelia, Hannibal decided against such a course of action, which he did not believe to be medically necessary in this case.

However, one examination which was essential was of the foetus itself, which would usually be performed by both an ultrasound and a Doppler machine, to examine the foetus’s development and listen to its heartbeat. Unfortunately, Hannibal did not have the standard equipment he required in order to carry out either, which left only one alternative, which he acknowledged was a long shot.

Leaving Bedelia’s side with great reluctance, Hannibal turned from her bedside and headed towards his wardrobe, opening the door and removing his black leather medical bag and carrying it towards the bed.

Hannibal placed the medical bag on the bedside table and opened it, glancing inside and removing his stethoscope and turning towards Bedelia once more.

Although it was not usually possible to detect a foetal heartbeat using a stethoscope until at least eighteen weeks’ gestation, it was the only option Hannibal had at his disposal. He hoped that the combination of his acute hearing and Bedelia’s modest size would be to his advantage.

Hannibal therefore walked slowly towards Bedelia, placing the earpieces in his ears as he approached her, before perching on the edge of the bed. He looked up at her face briefly, and found her still to be in a deep state of unconscious. He then placed the chest piece onto the centre of her belly, hoping that the coldness would not wake her, as began his search for the foetal heartbeat.

Hannibal moved the chest piece of the stethoscope around Bedelia’s middle and lower belly for what felt like an eternity, but to no avail. However, one minute into his search, his keen senses detected a quiet but clear sound. Hannibal froze and pressed the chest piece more firmly against Bedelia’s skin, as the sound of their baby’s heartbeat echoed in his ears.

Hannibal let out a breath which he hadn’t realised he had been holding, relief flooding him at the distinct and unmistakable sound of the foetal heartbeat. Once he had composed himself, Hannibal counted the beats for ten seconds, and calculated it to be beating 150 times per minute, which was excellent, and very healthy. Hannibal swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a few moments, as he continued to listen to the mesmerising metronome, each beat causing him to feel elated, relieved and anxious, though he found himself unable to stop listening. He committed the enchanting melody to his memory.

As he was so engaged in listening to the baby’s heartbeat, Hannibal did not realise that he had placed his left hand tenderly upon Bedelia’s belly, until he felt the familiar sensation of her soft, taut skin against his palm. However, once he did, he found himself opening his eyes immediately and looking down upon her. Bedelia’s skin felt cooler than before, but only slightly; nevertheless, he forced himself to remove his stethoscope and returned his attentions to her care immediately.

Rising from the bed on legs which felt uncharacteristically unsteady, Hannibal placed his stethoscope back in his medical bag before turning his attentions towards Bedelia. His gaze drifted across her face and considering her expression, which was troubled despite her current unconscious state. As well as her cool skin, Bedelia was still as alarmingly pale as she had been before, with her lips the lightest shade of pink. Hannibal placed a hand tenderly upon her forehead and was relieved to find that her temperature was normal. However, the fact that she was very pale, and appeared to have been suffering from confusion, disorientation and light-headedness, could be an indication that she was dehydrated. Whilst he did recall her drinking half a glass of water during the opera, he had no further knowledge of her intake of food or sustenance, though as she had clearly been anxious to conceal her condition, he suspected she may not have felt well enough to eat. Knowing that dehydration could be dangerous for the mother and baby during pregnancy, Hannibal sought to remedy this too.

He therefore left Bedelia’s side and headed into her bedroom, removing a white silk nightdress from the familiar drawer and carrying it back into his bedroom. As he stepped over the threshold and into the room itself he froze, his gaze befalling Bedelia’s curved belly, which seemed even more prevalent when viewed from the side. Feeling something deep within him stir and threaten to ignite his already barely-suppressed emotions, Hannibal swallowed hard and took in a calming breath, before making his way towards his unconscious patient.

Hannibal placed the nightdress on top of his medical bag, before making his way to the centre of the bed. He drew Bedelia’s claret-coloured evening dress down her body and removed it completely, before draping it neatly over his arm. He then removed her shoes and carried the garments across the room, placing them on a nearby armchair, before making his way towards his wardrobe.

Concealed in the space between the wardrobe and the wall was a small silver refrigerator which contained emergency medical supplies. Hannibal opened the door and looked inside, his eyes befalling the stock of IV fluids which he kept for emergencies. He removed one bag, complete with tubing, before closing the fridge door and carrying it across the room.

Hannibal placed the IV bag on his bedside table beside Bedelia’s clutch bag, before picking up her nightdress and quickly unfolding it. Knowing that Bedelia was clearly wary of him, and not wishing to distress her, Hannibal decided not to remove her underwear, and instead carefully dressed Bedelia in her silken garment. As he smoothed the material down over her legs, his eyes drifted instinctively towards her belly, where the prominent swell pushed against the fabric of the nightdress, swathed in silk and gloriously apparent. It was in that moment that Hannibal found himself realising why it was that Bedelia had taken to wearing robes and kimonos over her nightwear, despite the warm evenings which Florence had been blessed with as of late. After internally rebuking himself for another of many factors which he had apparently overlooked in recent months, Hannibal made his way back towards the top of the bed and forced himself to focus on the matter at hand.

Hannibal picked up the IV bag and removed an antibacterial wipe and an IV needle from his medical bag and made his way around the bed, removing the packaging for the needle just as he reached the other side of the bed. Hannibal then placed the IV bag containing saline solution onto the bed beside Bedelia, before lifting her left hand and holding it in his own. He then opened the small packet containing the antibacterial wipe, which he used to clean the back of Bedelia’s hand. He then removed the IV needle from its packet and skilfully inserted it with surgical precision, before attaching the tubing for the IV drip, and releasing the revitalising liquid. He used an elastic band to secure the IV bag over the bedpost, which he found from previous experience made a most serviceable IV stand. He then spent a few moments examining the bag, the tubing and the needle, and was quickly satisfied that it was working perfectly.

Gathering the debris of the empty packets, Hannibal discarded them in the nearby waste paper basket before heading into his ensuite bathroom. He opened the door to the airing cupboard and selected a spare double-duvet, which he quickly made up with a cream coloured embroidered sheet. He then carried the duvet into the bedroom and made his way slowly towards Bedelia.

Hannibal found himself staring at Bedelia once more, his gaze drifting from her head to her belly, where it lingered for several moments. After forcing his attentions away from his thoughts, he carefully placed the duvet on top of her, smoothing it down and adjusting it so that it was in the correct position. He then carefully lifted her arms to rest above the sheets, both to protect the IV drip and enable him to examine her as easily as possible, which he would be doing throughout the night.

After ensuring that Bedelia was warm and comfortable, Hannibal walked slowly towards the top of the bed and looked down upon her. He stroked an errant curl from her face and cupped her cheek, his thumb tenderly caressing her smooth skin. He then inhaled sharply, his medical ministrations completed, and he found himself feeling an almost physical shift as he switched roles once more, from her doctor to her lover.

Hannibal swallowed hard, the thoughts and emotions he had suppressed in order to assist Bedelia rising to the surface once again, and demanding acknowledgement. As he attempted to keep them all at bay, he drew an armchair towards Bedelia’s bedside and sat down slowly, finding himself feeling exhausted, despite the fact it was only ten o’clock. His exhaustion was quickly suppressed too, as he would need to remain awake throughout the night to monitor Bedelia.

Hannibal looked up at Bedelia with bright, intelligent eyes and an expression etched with concern, as he reached out and took her hand, which he held tenderly and with great care.

“What have we gotten ourselves into, Bedelia?” Hannibal asked quietly, as much to himself as to his unconscious companion, his mind returning to a question which had been repeating itself again and again in his mind, its volume and frequency rising with Hannibal’s attempts to suppress it.

_Why did she Bedelia not tell me that she is pregnant?_

As if in response, the familiar sound of a reminder alert tone followed by a vibration beside him prompted Hannibal to turn his attentions towards the bedside table, where the screen of Bedelia’s mobile phone glowed from within her clutch bag.

After the briefest of hesitations, Hannibal reached towards the bedside table and turned the clutch bag towards him, extracting the phone in a single fluid movement and drawing it close. His eyes befell the title and single-line of the reminder notification, which stared up at him gloatingly, the words causing his blood to freeze in his veins.

_“Upcoming flight details: Mrs L Fell – FLORENCE, ITALY to LONDON, ENGLAND – Departure Time: 6:00am, Saturday 4 th July 2015”._


	30. Chapter 30

Hannibal stared at the phone and re-read the words several times, quickly committing them to memory. He found himself shocked by the revelation as well as its implications, and a deep and painful ache afflicted his chest, which he had only experienced a handful of times in his entire life. Ignoring both the pain and its meaning, Hannibal returned his attentions to the unconscious Bedelia, who appeared troubled even in sleep; a condition which Hannibal found himself experiencing whilst conscious.

Hannibal turned away from Bedelia and stared down at the phone once again, re-reading the words which he already knew by heart, as realisation dawned upon him. This, combined with Bedelia’s concealment of her condition, made it perfectly apparent that she had no intention of telling him about her pregnancy. Instead, she had intended on carrying out a plan which he himself had previously thwarted, albeit unintentionally. She was going to leave him, bereft of both her company and the knowledge that she was carrying his child. And had it not been for a rather inconvenient bout of fainting, she would have succeeded.

As he sat in the armchair considering Bedelia’s deception, he found himself remembering recent exchanges between them both, often heated and always charged. Her repeated warnings to him of exercising caution, her critique of his recklessness, her anger at his most recent kills, and her devastation at her own compliance. But the memory which recalled itself most strongly to his mind was the words she had spoken to him after confidently informing him that he would be apprehended.

 _“I know exactly how I will navigate my way out of whatever it is I have gotten myself into with you”_.

When she had declared this to him he had assumed, of course, that she was referring to how she would protect herself from criminal charges relating to her complicity in his crimes, her own attempt at self-preservation. But now, knowing her condition and feeling confident that she would have known it too when she had said this to him with such conviction, her words seemed to have dual meaning: she wasn’t only talking about protecting herself from prosecution, she was talking about the steps she intended to take concerning her pregnancy. Steps which, it was quite clear, would lead her far away from him.

Hannibal swallowed hard and placed the phone back in the clutch bag, before returning his gaze to Bedelia as he considered his thoughts.

One of the immediate things Hannibal became aware of as he sat beside Bedelia was that he was not angry. He was disappointed – profoundly – and felt deceived, betrayed and hurt, but anger did not seem to enter the disorientating emotional cocktail which he was currently experiencing, which he found quite curious. Instead, the place within him which should have occupied his anger was filled instead by something else, something heavier and deeper and considerably more painful.

Devastation.

Bedelia had concealed her pregnancy and planned to leave – twice – without telling him about her condition. She did not permit him knowledge of her pregnancy, much less a discussion upon the subject. Whilst he appreciated it was her choice whether to continue with the pregnancy or not, she had clearly decided that she wished to, and had chosen to deny him any input from that point onwards. The fact that she had utilised a corset-like device to conceal her condition was a testament to the extent of her desperation, and the strength of her conviction to hide her pregnancy from him at all costs. And the more he tried to understand why, the more profound the ache, and the deeper the wound became.

 _“Don’t”_ she had pleaded, as she desperately tried to push his hands away from her belly. _“Please don’t.”_

Although he had suspected it before, this additional information made it clear now, and provided irrefutable evidence of the reason for Bedelia’s deception. She was afraid of him. Or, more specifically, of what he would do if he learned of her condition.

Hannibal inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, turning his attentions to Bedelia once more.

Was the prospect of telling him that she was carrying his child such a daunting one that she would choose to flee the country rather than engage in a conversation? What did she think he would do if he learned of her pregnancy? He had never harmed her, nor would he, and he certainly would not harm their unborn child. The more Hannibal considered it, the deeper and more confusing the mystery became. Did she fear he would insist that she have a termination? From the fear in her eyes and the desperation as she fought him, it was almost as though she feared he would carry out such a procedure himself.

Hannibal swallowed hard and suppressed a strong feeling of nausea at the prospect, as his disappointment rose within him once more.

He would not have done any of those things, and the fact that Bedelia seemed to fear that he would distressed him more than he was capable of admitting to himself, much less expressing. They had shared a connection, an all-consuming attraction which had developed into the deepest and most profound sense of affection he had ever experienced, the strength of which was matched only by his love for his sister, though this type of course was profoundly different. But the nature of Bedelia’s deception caused him to question the nature of her feelings for him; questioning his actions was one thing, but not trusting him enough to confide in him that she was carrying his child was devastating beyond words and measure, and left him experiencing a profound sense of grief which threatened to consume him entirely.

The fact that they had made love the night before, so passionately and so fiercely, only served to increase his devastation and confusion. Had it simply been a rouse? An attempt at allaying any concerns or suspicions he might have, and thus ensure her second attempt at leaving him was more successful than the first? Hannibal put his head in his hands and closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath and slowly releasing it, as he tried to calm his racing thoughts and suppress the tortuous waves of strong emotions which were currently afflicting him. For someone who was able to compartmentalise with almost surgical precision, he was truly struggling tonight. But when he opened his eyes after a couple of minutes of quiet contemplation, he looked up at Bedelia once more, and became conscious of one salient fact.

He was not angry.

Admittedly, he did not understand her decision and was devastated by it, but he was not angry at her for having made it. But given the nature and extent of her betrayal, his distinct lack of anger puzzled him greatly.

After a few moments more, Hannibal rose to his feet and stepped towards the bed, perching on the edge of it and staring down at Bedelia. Her eyes were firmly closed and her expression was troubled; the paleness of her skin was offset by the glorious platinum curls which framed her face, forming a golden halo which he found himself comparing to an image of the Madonna. The sight of her chest rising and falling, and the intoxicating scent of her perfume, had a curiously soothing affect upon him, and he found himself calming down in her very presence.

But the ache, deep and profound and bruising, affected him profoundly.

Hannibal’s intelligent eyes drifted across Bedelia’s face and down her body, his gaze resting on her belly, which was concealed beneath the sheets. As he stared fixedly at her, he found himself beginning to consider the prospect of parenthood for only the second time in his life. He knew precisely the stage of the baby’s development, and in his mind’s eye he found himself considering the progression of its development, as it slowly became a fully-developed infant. Hannibal found himself feeling both exhilarated and daunted by the prospect of this child – their child – a child which existed against spectacular odds and under extraordinary circumstances. Indeed, it must have been a considerable shock to Bedelia when she discovered she was pregnant.

With that thought, Hannibal found himself reaching towards Bedelia, taking her hand in his own in a comforting and reassuring manner, as his gaze drifted from her belly to her face once more.

She must have been terrified, the news would have taken her completely off-guard. It was not something they had ever considered might happen which, Hannibal reasoned, was rather naïve of them.

As he stroked her fingers with his thumb in a soothing, rhythmic motion, Hannibal tried to remember whether he and Bedelia had ever discussed motherhood or, more specifically, her own thoughts on having children. The deeper he thought, the more he began to realise that it was a subject she had never broached nor commented upon, though it had not come up in any of their conversations since knowing each other, not directly at least. In truth, he had no idea how Bedelia would feel about becoming a mother. In fact, if it had not been for the fiercely maternal way she defended her unborn child against the threat she felt he posed to it, he might have wondered whether she had intended on giving the child up for adoption. It was a possibility, he supposed, though one which he felt was unlikely. 

Hannibal stilled his soothing motions and held Bedelia’s hand gently in his own, as he tried to slow his racing mind, and silence his many thoughts. Whilst it was possible that he might be able to accurately deduce the reason for Bedelia’s concealment of her pregnancy from him, the most accurate way to do was simple and required no immediate action.

He would provide her with one of the very things she tried to deny him: a conversation.

But not yet.

And so, Hannibal spent the majority of the night caring for Bedelia, monitoring her closely and attentively.

As the hours wore on, Hannibal turned on the bedside lamps and turned off the main light, bathing the room in a soothing darkness which the artificial glow of the lamp-light fought valiantly. There was sufficient light in the room for him to be able to tend to Bedelia, but the darkness provided a more soothing and less clinical ambience, which he hoped would comfort Bedelia when she eventually did wake.

However, Bedelia slept for over six hours, her unconsciousness concerning Hannibal slightly. But her strong pulse and the absence of bleeding or any signs of pain soothed him, as did the knowledge that her body would rest for as long as it needed to. For as long as she and their unborn child required.

Shortly after checking Bedelia’s vitals at four o’clock in the morning, Hannibal rubbed his hand over his weary eyes, and sat slowly down in the armchair beside her. Finding himself feeling exhausted, and knowing that he would be of no use to her should a crisis arise, Hannibal permitted himself an hour to rest, to refresh himself before his six o’clock examination of Bedelia. He was a very light sleeper, and had long held an ability to command his body to wake when required, which he developed during his time as a surgeon when it was often necessary to go for many hours, even days, without sleep.

Hannibal found a comfortable position in the armchair and leaned into it, his tired eyes looking up at Bedelia, before he reluctantly surrendered himself to sleep.

However, Hannibal’s intention to allow himself a whole hour of sleep was thwarted by his patient who, after just thirty minutes, slowly began to wake.

Shortly after half-past four in the morning, Bedelia shifted slightly in her bed, her head turning slight to the right as she stirred in her slumber. Hannibal, who was a profoundly light sleeper, was drawn from his own rest immediately, and he sat up slowly as he watched Bedelia begin to wake.

Bedelia let out a deep breath and gently parted her lips, as her right hand drifted instinctively towards her abdomen. As she was slowly eased out of her unconsciousness, she found herself gradually becoming aware of being warm and comfortable, and somewhere familiar. Her mind, not content to allow her to rise gradually, made her aware of the deep-seated and almost primal sense of fear which she had experienced upon waking just a few hours before. A sensation which, the scent of Hannibal upon the pillow on which she rested drew her sharply back onto the present.

Bedelia opened her eyes hazily, as memories of her collapse and Hannibal’s hands upon her returned to the forefront of her mind with an almost terrifying force. She blinked languidly several times and turned instinctively to the right, her eyes meeting Hannibal’s as he stared back at her, his presence causing all air to be sucked from her lungs. She placed her left arm protectively across her belly instinctively, as she let in an unsteady breath.

“Hannibal” she breathed, her voice weak and laced with tiredness and emotion.

As Hannibal watched Bedelia, he found himself seeing the fear in her voice reflected in her features, and he was overcome by a sudden and all-consuming need to comfort her.

“It’s alright” Hannibal assured her, rising instinctively from his seat and sitting on the edge of the bed beside her, watching her tense as her terrified eyes following his every move. “Everything is alright” he soothed, his voice gentle and comforting. “The baby is alright” he added gently.

At the mention of the baby, Hannibal watched Bedelia’s bottom lip tremble and her expression crumple, as she clasped her right hand to her mouth and burst into tears.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> I hope you're all keeping safe and well.
> 
> Thank you for your continued support of this story, and for your kind reviews, they are very much appreciated.
> 
> Thank you also for your patience. These most recent chapters are taking me longer to write as I want to get them just right, which is certainly a challenge when venturing into such unfamiliar territory! So as always, if anyone has any constructive criticism or concerns please do let me know, it is very gratefully and appreciatively received.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this latest instalment, and I will continue to upload as frequently as I can.
> 
> With love,
> 
> HQ21

Even as Bedelia was slowly waking from her state of deep unconsciousness, she found herself acutely aware of the fact that Hannibal was watching her. She felt his gaze upon her with the same force and intensity as the corset she had worn earlier that night, a garment which she was relieved to find she was no longer wearing. However, it was the extent of her current level of physical comfort combined with her wariness of Hannibal’s gaze upon her that had drawn her promptly out of her stupor, memories of his hands upon her belly and his eyes fixed upon hers tearing her from the sanctity of her slumber. She remembered the knowing yet shocked, almost frightened look in his eyes, as he had held her hands gently by her wrists to calm her. And as she opened her eyes once more, she found herself meeting that exact same gaze once more, fear and confusion overshadowing the intelligence beneath.

“Hannibal” Bedelia had breathed, the word falling from her lips on a breathless exhale as she had desperately tried to calm herself. Her voice sounded weak and tired, matching her lethargy and fear, and she swallowed hard as she attempted to suppress the strong waves of emotion which were threatening to overcome her. And Hannibal’s unexpected act of kindness increased those emotions tenfold.

“It’s alright” Hannibal assured her, his expression softening and his voice adopting a gentle yet confident tone, as he rose from his chair and made his way towards her. “Everything is alright” he added, gently easing himself onto the bed beside her, as she watched him with wary anticipation. Her stomach clenched almost painfully and she felt overwhelmed by his proximity to her, and her inability to read him. There was no doubt in her mind that he had discovered her condition, the look on his face when she had regained consciousness earlier on had confirmed as much. Whilst she detected concern, interest and even fear in his expression and demeanour, she did not identify anger, and she found herself feeling more frightened by its absence than its presence. “The baby is alright” Hannibal said softly, his voice drawing her sharply from her thoughts.

Hannibal’s proximity to her, combined with the kindness of his words and demeanour, caused the self-control which Bedelia had desperately tried to hold on to to desert her almost completely. And with the mention of the baby – their baby – an acknowledgement of its existence and his knowledge of it falling from his lips, Bedelia’s fear and guilt overcame her completely, and she burst into tears.

Bedelia clamped her hand to her mouth and wept for several seconds, before taking in a deep breath and trying to calm herself before she lost control completely. She took in several unsteady breaths and swallowed hard, before clenching her jaw and trying to calm her breathing. She felt Hannibal’s calm and reassuring presence beside her, and was aware of him putting his hand in his trouser pocket, but was too preoccupied in her desperate attempt to calm herself to observe what he was doing. And her fear and guilt was so extreme and all-consuming that she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

After calming herself just seconds after her breakdown, Bedelia then instinctively pulled herself up into a sitting position, in an attempt to feel some semblance of both comfort and control. As she did so, Hannibal edged closer to her and she saw his hands coming towards her, prompting her to inhale sharply and look up at him immediately, her entire body going rigid with fear. She opened her mouth to say his name but no words came. However, she found herself slowly start to calm down when she realised what he was doing.

Hannibal had reached behind Bedelia and was adjusting her pillows to make her more comfortable as she sat up against the headboard. She sat bolt upright and perfectly still, frozen to the spot as he did so, her worried gaze drifting across his face, which was just inches from her own. After tending to the pillows, Hannibal looked up at Bedelia and their eyes met, and she found herself unable to look away. She could see intelligence, curiosity and something unreadable which frightened her, but there was something else too, something so uncharacteristic for Hannibal that it took her a few moments to identify it.

Hurt.

Bedelia inhaled sharply and watched as Hannibal slowly leaned back, a single tear rolling down her cheek before she finally broke his gaze. She sniffled slightly and then swallowed hard to calm herself, before looking down at her lap and adjusting the covers around her belly self-consciously. When she looked up again she found Hannibal watching her, and as her gaze met his he extended his hand to her, and she saw something clasped within his palm.

It was a handkerchief, neatly folded and exquisitely designed, and Hannibal was offering it to her. Bedelia hesitated for a moment, before accepting it with a trembling hand, and using it to dab her eyes.

“Thank you” she said quietly, her voice husky with emotion, as she stared at a spot somewhere down the bed.

Hannibal remained silent for a short while to enable Bedelia to calm herself and gather her thoughts, though he watched her with interest the entire time. Less than a minute later Bedelia re-folded the handkerchief and held it with both hands in her lap, before releasing a deep and calming breath and meeting his gaze once more. Hannibal was watching her with a curious expression, and she quickly found her resolve faltering. She felt raw, exposed and vulnerable, like an injured diver in the middle of the ocean being circled by a shark. But her injury was self-inflicted, and the shark surely blameless.

“How are you feeling?” Hannibal asked, his voice calm and gentle, as he adopted a similar tone to the one she suspected he used with his patients. She held his gaze and felt her body tremble.

“I’m fine” she responded, her voice quiet but calm, and more confident than she had thought herself capable. Hannibal held her gaze for a few moments as he considered her answer.

“You’re not experiencing any pain?” he asked softly, his gaze holding Bedelia’s, as though he was trying to see through her. “No abdominal pain or cramping, lightheadedness or nausea?” he persisted, his voice calm and assured, as he displayed every sign of genuinely wanting to know. Bedelia shook her head.

“No” she replied, her words almost a whisper. She was trying to think of something to say, of how best to proceed, when she noticed than cannula in her left hand. Her eyes drifted up the IV tubing and towards the almost empty bag which was secured around the bedpost with what appeared to be an elastic band. Bedelia’s stomach tightened and she felt suddenly flooded with panic.

“The bag contains saline” Hannibal informed her calmly, perceiving her almost palpable concern, and trying to conceal the extent of his own disappointment at her suspicion. “You appeared to be dehydrated, so I cannulated you and introduced the fluids to your system to remedy it” he explained.

Bedelia felt relief flood her almost immediately as she turned towards him, her guilt at having momentarily suspected something more sinister causing her to feel sick deep in the pit of her stomach. She swallowed hard and nodded, before meeting his gaze with emotional eyes.

“Thank you” she said quietly.

Hannibal watched Bedelia closely and with great interest as she attempted to calm herself and regain her composure. She was characteristically calm and contained, so it was strange to see her like this, so deeply unsettled and wary to the point of fear. Her present demeanour reminded him of how she had responded to him asking if she were participating or observing in the death of the late Mr Dimmond.

As she recovered her nerves and tried to develop some semblance of control, Bedelia found herself feeling both awkward and unnerved by the silence surrounding the subject which was on both of their minds. A matter which they had simply skated around since she had regained consciousness a few minutes prior, despite it obviously being something which they needed to discuss rather urgently. Unable to bear another moment of silence or avoidance of the inevitable, and finding herself feeling increasingly guilty of her conduct and fearful of Hannibal’s response, Bedelia decided that the best course of action would be to simply tell him the truth now, finally. Any other option would be futile regardless, and she did not doubt that he would see through any lie that she chose to tell him. And as Hannibal sat patiently beside her and watched her with a combination of concern and anticipation, she found herself feeling disinclined towards dishonesty altogether.

“Hannibal, I’m sorry” Bedelia said gently, her voice calm and sincere. Hannibal’s eyes met her gaze and she found herself feeling oddly both emboldened and terrified. “I didn’t mean for this to happen” she assured him. A look Bedelia could not identify passed across Hannibal’s eyes and expression and she waited in nervous anticipation for him to respond.

“Are you referring to the pregnancy itself or my discovery of it?” he asked promptly, a degree of displeasure underlying his calm tone. Bedelia inhaled sharply, and privately acknowledged that she deserved such a response, and that the best way to handle this conversation was with honesty.

“Both” Bedelia confessed, her eyes holding his gaze as she spoke. Hannibal stared at her for a moment before nodding once in acknowledgement.

“And when did you discover it yourself?” Hannibal asked calmly, his voice adopting a gentler tone. Bedelia swallowed hard.

“Two weeks ago” she admitted quietly. “The night I collapsed in the bathroom, after the charity gala” she added. Hannibal’s eyes shone with realisation and he stared at her.

“The night you ‘slipped on the wet floor’?” he asked, repeating Bedelia’s excuse of that evening. Something in Hannibal’s voice made Bedelia’s heart begin to race, and she let out a calming breath.

“Yes” Bedelia replied. “When I was in the bath I experienced some cramping, and I-” she paused for a moment, as memories from that terrifying night caused her emotions to almost choke her. “I realised that I was bleeding” she added, looking up and meeting his gaze. “That’s why I got out of the tub and that’s when I collapsed” she stated. Hannibal stared at Bedelia with the same unreadable expression as he considered her response.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Hannibal asked gently, his voice calm and non-accusing, and softer than before. Bedelia felt something inside her shatter.

“Because by the time I realised what was happening I had already lost a considerable amount of blood and I-” Bedelia felt tears burning in her eyes at the memory of that fear, which affected her more than she realised. She swallowed hard and forced herself to suppress her emotions, her fingers toying with the handkerchief with uncharacteristic nervousness, as she looked up at him with eyes filled with sadness. “I’m forty-five, I was in pain and I was bleeding” she said simply, her voice devoid of the emotion which was present in her eyes. “I thought I had experienced a miscarriage” she advised. “So I didn’t believe there was anything to tell you” she explained, her voice catching at the end.

Hannibal watched Bedelia toying nervously with his handkerchief and try not to cry, as he considered her response to his question. A response which, he had no doubt, was the truth. Although he was disappointed that she had not sought his assistance when she had been in need of medical attention, especially for such a frightening and emotionally-challenging event, he found himself understanding the logic behind that decision. Bedelia was a strong, independent woman who dealt with matters herself and did not wish to appear weak in front of others; she was also very compassionate, despite her attempts to hide it, and he suspected that whilst she mainly concealed her perceived miscarriage from him for her own benefit, she did it for him too.

Except it was not a miscarriage. And nor was she perimenopausal, which he had suspected up until this very night. Hannibal inwardly cursed himself for his ignorance, and his failure to suspect, much less diagnose her pregnancy.

“And when did you learn that you had not miscarried?” Hannibal asked gently, his voice slightly husky as he spoke. Bedelia looked up at him and met his gaze.

“The following morning” she admitted. “When I woke up I realised I had bled quite considerably during the night, and I was feeling very unwell, so I got a taxi to the medical centre” she advised, caressing the handkerchief between her finger and thumb in a motion which she found oddly soothing. Which was completely contrasted by Hannibal’s expression which, had she not known him better, she would have labelled as distress.

“Why didn’t you tell me then?” Hannibal asked calmly, his tone gentle and devoid of accusation. Bedelia felt something deep inside her ache.

“Because I thought I was having a miscarriage” she replied. “I thought I’d just be able to rest whilst nature took its course, but I was concerned by the extent of the pain and the bleeding, so I-”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Hannibal interjected, emotion imbued in his otherwise calm done. Bedelia stared at him in surprise at his uncharacteristic interruption, which he would ordinarily consider rude, and responded with promptness which was a testament to the honesty of her answer.

“Because I thought I was losing the-” Bedelia began, hesitating slightly, and finding herself unable to complete her sentence. “I really believed I was miscarrying” she stated with conviction, emotion present in her voice, which she promptly attempted to suppress. “I hadn’t told you the night before, so it felt even more impossible to tell you then” she advised.

The nature of Bedelia’s words and distress caused something deep within Hannibal’s heart and chest to tighten and then promptly ache. He swallowed hard and nodded in response, understanding her dilemma perfectly. Though how desperately he wished she would have told him.

“But then you discovered you had not miscarried” Hannibal said softly, prompting her to continue with her narrative. Bedelia inhaled an unsteady breath and nodded, before exhaling slowly and looking up to meet his gaze once more.

“Despite the pain and the bleeding, and my certainty that I had lost it, the doctor who examined me found a heartbeat” Bedelia said gently, her lips turning up into a smile at the final word. “I couldn’t believe it” she breathed, and she continued to play with the handkerchief in her nervous hands, turning her gaze away from Hannibal momentarily. “But as the pregnancy was high risk and I was in pain and bleeding I thought that a miscarriage was inevitable” she continued, her voice quiet and calm, as Hannibal maintained a respectful silence and listened intently. “So I came home and I waited and waited and nothing happened” she continued, inhaling sharply and meeting Hannibal’s gaze once more. “The bleeding stopped, the pain subsided, and I began to feel better” she explained.

Hannibal’s expression softened and he nodded in understanding as he processed what she said. He found himself wanting to ask her why she did not tell him at this point, but he recognised that she was understandably upset, and did not wish to distress her further. Besides, she was already providing him with an honest and detailed account of her actions and inaction since discovering her pregnancy. He was therefore confident he would learn the truth if he simply allowed her to speak freely; there was no need for direct questions. For the moment, at least.

Bedelia watched Hannibal as he considered her words, and she remained respectfully silence as she awaited his response. She found herself experiencing a strong wave of guilt and sadness, both of which melded and formed into shame as she watched Hannibal, who had thus far proven her wrong in his reaction to the news. He was not displaying any signs of anger at her for becoming pregnant or concealing it from him. If anything, what she saw, though she knew he was trying to hide it and was doing so very well, was sadness. After a few moments of further consideration, she found herself experiencing a sudden thought which was too strong to suppress, and she found herself reaching towards the bedside table.

Bedelia’s movements drew Hannibal out of his thoughts and prompted him to look up at her, and watch as she picked up her clutch bag and reached inside. He heard her opening her purse and watched as she hesitated for a moment, before reaffirming her resolution and removing the item and held it out to him. Hannibal stared at Bedelia for a moment before lowering his gaze to the black and white ultrasound photo which she was nervously offering him.

Hannibal’s gaze drifted across the black, white and grey image of their unborn child, and he accepted it from her instinctively, unaware that he had done so until he was drawing the document towards him for further consideration. The clear outline of a fourteen-week old foetus was laid out before him, its head and body clearly discernible, its hands and feet slightly blurrier by comparison. Hannibal found his attentions drifting towards the baby’s heart and fixing his gaze upon it, the image causing excitement and fear to rise within him in equal measure.

Bedelia remained respectfully silent once more as Hannibal considered the image, which he studied intently and reverently for some time. She felt herself calming considerably, and after a few moments more she found herself feeling almost compelled to speak.

“It seems as though it is quite determined to stay” Bedelia said softly, relief present in her tone, despite the fact that she did not quite feel able to use the word ‘baby’. She was rather distracted by this thought, and therefore did not notice Hannibal look up at her for a few moments.

“Yes, it does” Hannibal agreed, his voice calm and assured. “But are you?” he asked, his voice adopting a curious tone as he met her gaze.

Bedelia’s expression faltered and she felt the blood drain from her face.


	32. Chapter 32

Bedelia stared at Hannibal for several moments, his words stunning her into silence, as her heart began to race in her chest. He couldn’t know, surely? How could he possibly know?

“I’m sorry?” she asked, her voice and expression conveying her confusion. Hannibal simply returned her gaze with an unreadable look.

“I understand why you did not tell me about the pregnancy whilst you were unwell, and even in the days which followed” Hannibal began, his voice unsettlingly calm and controlled. “But you recovered, and the pregnancy progressed for a further two weeks, and you still did not tell me” he continued, an edge of accusation present in his tone. “In fact, you did quite the opposite. You concealed it from me, using elaborate and arguably extreme methods once your condition became harder to hide” he added, removing the folded waist trainer from the corner of the chair and holding it up for emphasis. Bedelia felt her stomach tighten and she turned her gaze away from it almost immediately, feeling guilty and frightened and utterly ashamed. “The fact that you chose to hide it from me even as it progressed to this stage, and by using the methods that you did, is strongly suggestive of the course of action you intended to take” he concluded.

Although Hannibal’s voice had been calm and measured, the undertones of disapproval and frustration were unmistakable, and Bedelia found herself beginning to feel very afraid. His reaction was perfectly understandable and thoroughly deserved, and it frightened Bedelia to her very core. Hannibal Lecter had killed people for much less than this, and for far less personal reasons. She did not wish for their baby to be another of his victims.

“Tell me Bedelia, what exactly was it you intended to do?” Hannibal asked, his voice quieter and gentler than before, as he wondered whether she would tell him the truth.

Hannibal’s interruption of Bedelia’s thought process made her feel even more unsettled than she had done before. She felt tears sting in her eyes as she prepared herself to admit to the full extent of her deception, knowing that she had no choice; he clearly had a very accurate idea of what she had been intending to do, and lying about it would be utterly futile. Besides, she was too tired and too shaken to construct even a mildly plausible lie, so she settled upon the complete truth instead.

“I was going to leave” Bedelia began simply, feeling detached as she spoke, as though she were talking about someone else. She was finding her current situation to feel very surreal indeed; as though she had fallen down the rabbit hole and had just reached the first item which read ‘eat me’. And just like Alice, she had no choice but to comply. So she swallowed hard and looked up and met Hannibal’s gaze with bright blue eyes ablaze with emotion and promptly filling with tears, which she desperately hoped she would not shed. “I was due to fly to England tomorrow morning. This morning” she corrected, a lump forming in her throat at her confession, as guilt flooded her once more. She held Hannibal’s gaze with a confidence she did not possess, and watched as his eyes darkened, before adopting a pensive, reflective expression which looked a lot like sadness.

“So you chose to flee the country rather than tell me that you were carrying our child” Hannibal responded, his words phrased most definitely like a statement rather than a question, as Bedelia confirmed that he already knew to be true. She inhaled sharply and faced him with a confidence which he credited her for.

“Yes” Bedelia replied simply, her voice low and quiet, as she managed by some miracle to maintain eye contact with Hannibal.

“May I ask why?” Hannibal asked calmly. Bedelia inhaled sharply and toyed nervously with the handkerchief again, as she was confronted with a question which she had anticipated, but feared the most. She therefore took a few moments to consider her response very carefully.

“I was uncertain as to how you would react” Bedelia replied slowly, forcing herself to look up with him with as calm an expression as she could muster. Hannibal’s intelligent eyes held her gaze and he tilted his head slightly to the side.

“Uncertain” Hannibal quoted, staring at her as he spoke. He was clearly requesting further clarification, and Bedelia found herself compelled to respond. She blinked and tried to ignore the feeling of sickness deep in the pit of her stomach. She then inhaled sharply and responded as honestly as she could.

“Afraid” she clarified, the word almost choking her. But still, she held his gaze all the same. Which is how she noticed that same unfamiliar expression upon his features, somewhere between sadness and pain. But it disappeared almost immediately, and was replaced with his impenetrable mask once more.

“You were afraid of me?” he replied calmly, the slight inflection at the end of his sentence indicating that it was a question. Bedelia felt her stomach tighten.

“I was afraid of your reaction” Bedelia explained slowly, choosing her words with great care. “Of what it might be” she added quietly. Hannibal considered her for a few moments, interest and intelligence present upon his expression, his curiosity piqued.

“How did you think I would react?” Hannibal asked sincerely, with every appearance of genuinely wanting to know. “What did you anticipate would happen?” he added. Bedelia’s breath caught in her throat and she felt tears burn her eyes, which she blinked back furiously.

“I didn’t know” Bedelia admitted. “And in a way that was what concerned me the most” she added. “But given your usual methods of dealing with obstacles I found myself facing one very distinct possibility” she explained, looking up and meeting his gaze as she spoke. “A possibility too dangerous and too plausible to doubt” she added. “Even if there were a reason that I could” she added, watching Hannibal nervously as he considered her response. She squeezed the handkerchief so tightly that her nails dug into her palms and stung with pain.

Hannibal stared at Bedelia for several moments as he considered her response, and found himself feeling something akin to devastation by her candour. Her use of the word ‘obstacle’ in relation to her pregnancy caused something deep inside him to ache, a deep and all-consuming pain which he was not accustomed to, and which for the moment he decided to ignore. Which was relatively easy, given how distracted he was by the emotions which were evoked within him at Bedelia’s clear and genuine fear of him. The fact that she had been so sincerely concerned about how he would react to the news of her pregnancy, and that she clearly feared for the life of her unborn child and possibly even herself, hurt him in a way which he had not anticipated, and which took him quite a while to process. Indeed, he had barely begun to when his consciousness of his prolonged period of silence brought him sharply back into the present.

“You said ‘don’t, please don’t’ when you woke suddenly after you collapsed” Hannibal said slowly, his voice almost as detached as hers had been before. He blinked himself out of his stupor and met her gaze once more. “Tell me, Bedelia, what exactly was it that you thought I would do?” he asked, his tone and expression serious as he spoke. Bedelia hesitated for a moment as she considered how to respond, and quickly found herself unable to.

“I don’t know” Bedelia replied evasively, unable to meet his gaze.

“I think you do” Hannibal contradicted, causing Bedelia to swallow hard and grip the handkerchief even tighter, as she still avoided his gaze entirely. “Did you believe that I would be angry?” he asked, his tone becoming gentler and less accusing than before. He watched as Bedelia inhaled sharply at the question. “Did you think I would hurt you?” he asked, observing how the question causing Bedelia to frown slightly, as she bit the inside of her cheek. He allowed her a moment to recover before posing his next question. “Did you think I would hurt the baby?” he asked gently.

Hannibal watched as Bedelia’s expression crumbled once more at the mention of their child. The mention of the baby, as well as its context, caused Bedelia’s hard-kept reserve and self-control to shatter almost entirely, and the tears which had burned in her eyes spilled down her cheeks. She placed her hand over her mouth and turned away from Hannibal with embarrassment, as she quickly tried to recover herself.

Instead of experiencing the familiar sensation of victory and self-satisfaction at receiving an answer to such an important question, Hannibal felt something deep inside him ache more painfully than before, to the point that it drove him to distraction. It was only the sound of Bedelia’s stifled sobbing that drew him back to the present, and this did little to assist him in regaining his control. Seeing her so genuinely fearful and upset, and knowing that he was the cause, made him feel a degree of sadness and guilt which he had never experienced before, and which he was desperate to remedy. His disappointment and frustration at the fact that Bedelia would consider him to be a threat to their unborn child’s life was overcome by their shared anguish, which he sought to remedy as quickly and as effectively as possible. But before he had a chance to speak, Bedelia had composed herself and turned towards him, her skin tear-stained and her eyes slightly red, but her expression one of admirable calmness and composure.

“I didn’t know how you would… react to this” Bedelia began slowly. “And it concerned me that I was unable to determine with any certainty the reactions which I might expect” she continued, her voice adopting a similar tone to the one she had used during their sessions. “So I considered how you usually deal with obstacles or individuals who pose a problem or a risk to you” she admitted, looking up and meeting his gaze once more. “I then considered the worst possible scenario, worked on the basis that that was correct, and I planned accordingly” she added quietly. Hannibal watched as Bedelia sought comfort in the handkerchief once again, as he considered her words carefully.

“You believed that I would kill one or both of you” Hannibal said quietly. Bedelia tried not to flinch at his words. As, in fact, did Hannibal. “Is that what you believe is my typical reaction to unexpected situations?” he asked sincerely. Bedelia closed her eyes and sighed wearily before opening her eyes.

“Yes” Bedelia replied simply. “It’s what you did in America and it is what you have continued to do ever since we arrived in Florence, only with more frequency and less restraint” she continued, meeting his gaze once again. “You’ve been reckless here, Hannibal. I have told you again and again and you either do not realise it or categorically refuse to. Either way, you have ignored my justifiable concerns and the reasons behind them” she continued. “Every time we have encountered an issue, you have attempted to overcome it by killing” she said simply, her voice becoming more confident as she continued. “We needed new identities, and so you killed the Fells” she stated, disapproval present in her tone. “Instead of the much simpler and more restrained alternative which I suggested of creating new ones entirely. Which would have also avoided the exact situation which we found ourselves in with Mr Dimmond” she censured. “And Professor Sogliatio, you killed him for no reason other than his discourtesy, which was both extreme and unnecessary, and has drawn further attention to ourselves. Attention which we could not afford in the first place” she stated. “So is it really any surprise that I was afraid that you would try and deal with this in the same way as you have dealt with everything else?” she asked, her voice breaking with anger and emotion, as her eyes shone with tears. Hannibal was silent for several moments as he watched her calm herself.

“Your hypothesis presupposes that I consider your pregnancy to be a problem” Hannibal said quietly. Bedelia stared at him for several moments, confusion in her eyes and expression, which was quickly replaced by calmness and curiosity. She found herself feeling incredibly confused, which was reflected in her tone.

“Don’t you?” she asked, utterly perplexed, and clearly desperate to know the answer. Hannibal held her gaze.

“No, I do not” he responded, finding the words coming to him with surprising ease. “It is certainly unexpected and does complicate matters slightly, but it is not something which I consider to be a problem” he continued, watching as Bedelia stared at him in amazement. “And it is certainly not something which I would deal with using the method which concerns you” he assured her, his voice gentle and surprisingly un-accusing. “In fact, I fail to see any comparison between them” he advised. Bedelia felt her previous confidence shatter at his final words. She was quiet for several moments as she contemplated her own.

“The only time we ever discussed your feelings towards becoming a father was in one of our sessions, when you told me that it was not something you had considered until you met Abigail, but that meeting her caused you to ‘see the appeal’ of it” Bedelia explained, her voice quiet yet calm, as she held Hannibal’s gaze. “You and Will Graham acted like surrogate fathers to her, protecting her secrets and her lies as though they were your own, and taking great personal risks to do so” she stated, as Hannibal continued to watch her curiously. “And then you butchered her in your kitchen right in front of him, and left her to bleed to death in his arms” she added, her voice hitching as she spoke. Bedelia swallowed hard and quickly recovered her composure. “So is it really any wonder that I would be concerned that you would do the exact same thing to our baby?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears as she uttered the final word. She had never referred to their unborn child as a ‘baby’ out loud before, and doing so caused all of the fears and emotions she had desperately tried to suppress to rise to the forefront of her mind and overcome her entirely.

Hannibal watched Bedelia as she become upset once more, clamping her hand to her mouth and averting her eyes from his, her entire body tensing as she desperately attempted to stifle her sobs. In that moment, all of the disappointment and frustration Hannibal felt at Bedelia’s deception was overcome by a strong wave of understanding and shared grief. Whilst he knew that he would not have reacted to the news of the pregnancy as Bedelia feared he would, he understood her fears that he would which, based on his previous conduct, were not outside of the realms of probability in her mind. But he wanted to assure her that they were completely outside the scope of their reality.

Without further thought, Hannibal edged closer to Bedelia and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into his embrace and holding her close. He felt her startle out of her stupor and tense in his arms, but he responded simply by holding her in a comforting embrace and cradling her head, which he gently guided towards his chest. Bedelia hesitated for a moment before relaxing slightly, her body responding instinctively to his touch, and accepting the comfort he was providing. She hesitantly drew her hands up his back and clung onto his shoulders as desperately tried not to cry. Hannibal responded by stroking her hair soothingly and kissing her temple, before tilting his head slightly to the side so that his lips were just inches away from her ear.

“I would never allow any harm to come to you or our child” Hannibal assured her, his voice gentle but assured. Bedelia felt her stomach ache and she tensed, clutching his shoulders tightly as she trembled in his arms. Hannibal responded by drawing her closer still. “I promise.”

Bedelia released an unsteady breath and opened her eyes wide, as she looked up at Hannibal and met his gaze, and found herself believing him entirely.


	33. Chapter 33

Bedelia stared up at Hannibal for several moments, finding herself feeling oddly perplexed by how comfortable she felt in his presence. His protective hands were upon her back and waist, and he was watching her with care and concern as she processed his declaration, which she had no doubt was absolutely sincere. And yet, despite the comfort and reassurance which Hannibal was providing her, she was still acutely aware of her profound and deep-seated fear.

“What happens now?” Bedelia asked quietly, her voice husky with tiredness and emotion. Despite her confidence in his sincerity, there was a primal part of her which was still deeply afraid. Hannibal tilted his head to the side slightly as he considered the question.

“What would you like to happen?” Hannibal asked softly. Bedelia’s head spun with the impossibility of even contemplating - much less providing – an answer to such a question, despite having been certain of it just hours before.

“I don’t know” she responded quietly, trying to maintain eye contact, despite her increasing physical and emotion exhaustion. Hannibal moved his hand from her lower back and stroked a curl from her face, prompting her eyes to widen slightly as she inhaled a sharp breath.

“Despite your concerns, I am not going to make the decision myself and force it upon you” Hannibal responded calmly, his eyes holding Bedelia’s gaze as he spoke. “The only thing I do insist upon is that you remain on bedrest for the entire weekend-”

“No, Hannibal, really, that’s not necessary” Bedelia interceded, lowering her gaze from his for a moment as she spoke. She then looked back up at him with a more confident expression. “I’m fine” she declared with as much confidence as she could muster. Hannibal’s gaze did not falter.

“I disagree” Hannibal replied, his tone gentle yet assured. “You collapsed last night” he reminded her. “You were suffering from dehydration and you are exhausted” he stated simply, stroking her cheek gently with his thumb and then cradling it. “This pregnancy is high risk, and you have already experienced complications” he reminded her, his eyes holding her gaze as he spoke. “It is essential that you rest, at least for the weekend” he declared.

Bedelia opened her mouth to protest but sighed instead, and closed it almost immediately. It was clear that Hannibal had made up his mind, and after considering his argument, she found herself unable to disagree with him. She was feeling rather sore, and she was so very, very tired.

“Fine” Bedelia said quietly, feeling tears sting her eyes as she spoke. She looked away from Hannibal and blinked furiously. Why was she crying, again? She felt tired and confused and was becoming frustrated with herself and her treacherous, senseless emotions.

“It is fine” Hannibal reassured her, his voice warm and comforting, as he began to run his hand soothingly up and down her waist, before taking her hand in his own, which prompted her to look towards him once again. “Everything is going to be fine” he stated with conviction. Bedelia stared at him for a moment. “You’ll rest over the weekend, and we’ll see how you are feeling on Monday morning, and decide what to do from there” he advised, making it sound so very simple, when they both knew that it was not. “I don’t want you to worry about anything” he added softly. “For the moment, the furthest into the future we need to consider is Monday” he continued. “And even then, we have plenty of time.”

“No, Hannibal, we don’t” Bedelia countered, her voice weary but confident, as she looked up at him with tired, red eyes. “We don’t have time” she added, her voice breaking slightly. She fought back a strong impulse to lower her gaze from him, and instead toyed with his silk handkerchief, which was becoming increasingly damp. Hannibal placed his over her trembling ones, and they stilled within moments of his touch.

“We have time, Bedelia” Hannibal assured her. “There is a lot we need to discuss, and we will, but not yet” he explained. “You need to rest and recover, and once you have, we will decide what to do. Together” he added.

Bedelia’s breath hitched and she nodded tiredly in agreement, despite feeling more than a little uncertain. Hannibal had taken the news of her pregnancy and her associated deception remarkably well, and she almost felt as though she were waiting for the real reaction, the one she had anticipated. And yet, despite this not being what she had expected – in fact, it was as antithetical from her own hypothesis as could be – it felt very real. Despite her anxiety and exhaustion, all of Bedelia’s psychological training and intimate knowledge of Hannibal was informing her that he was telling the truth when discussing his thoughts and intentions, and he was being very sincere. Moreover, his actions in tending to her and caring for her after she collapsed supported this theory. She had been unconscious for several hours, which had provided him with ample time to either terminate the pregnancy or her, and he chose neither. She shuddered at the thought, and was distracted by the soothing sensation of Hannibal’s hand upon her upper arm.

“Are you cold?” he asked gently. Bedelia shook her head.

“No” she replied quietly, holding his gaze as she spoke.

“Are you feeling unwell?” he asked softly, attempting to adopt a casual tone, which was betrayed by the concern in his eyes.

“I’m just tired” Bedelia confessed. Hannibal held her gaze and nodded in understanding.

“Then you should get some sleep” he replied simply, as though it were the easiest thing in the world. But despite her exhaustion, Bedelia doubted she would. “The IV bag is empty” he added, drawing Bedelia from her thoughts.

“Sorry?” she asked, her weary mind taking a few moments to process what he had said. She looked towards the IV and then down towards her hand.

“You no longer appear to be dehydrated, so I’ll remove the needle and IV line, which should make you more comfortable” he advised. Bedelia nodded absently in agreement, and remained perfectly still as Hannibal removed the needle from her hand and put a small plaster over the entrance wound, which bled ever so slightly. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thank you” Bedelia replied, flexing her fingers and clasping her hands together in her lap. “I’m fine” she added, as Hannibal removed the empty IV bag and tubing and placed it in a waste bin on the other side of the bedside table, out of her sight.

Hannibal nodded in acknowledgement before rising from his seat and making his way to the other side of the room, turning out the small lamps one by one, and immersing the room in comforting darkness. The only lamp which was still on was the one on the bedside table next to Bedelia. A bedside table which, she quickly remembered, was not her own.

“Perhaps I should go back to my own room” Bedelia suggested, finding herself feeling suddenly out of place in Hannibal’s bed, and rather exposed.

“That’s not necessary” Hannibal responded with ease, as he appeared beside her once more, and sat down on the edge of the bed. “You are comfortable and settled here, and I would like to continue to monitor you” he explained.

 _‘Continue’ to monitor me_ , thought Bedelia as she held Hannibal’s gaze. _Has he been awake and watching over me this entire time?_ She wondered, the notion causing her to feel a sudden pang of guilt. It must be very late. Or rather, very early.

“What time is it?” Bedelia asked, aware that she had no idea whatsoever, though she felt as though she had been unconscious for some time.

“It is quarter to five” Hannibal advised her after consulting his watch. Bedelia’s eyes widened.

“Where will you sleep?” she asked absently, the words escaping her lips of their own volition. Hannibal hesitated for a moment, and seemed to not have anticipated the question.

“I am not tired” he announced casually. “As I explained, I need to continue to monitor you” he advised.

“Hannibal, I’m fine” Bedelia said tiredly.

“You are not fine, Bedelia” Hannibal countered. Bedelia swallowed hard and lowered her gaze from his. She remained silent for several moments, lost deep in thought, which Hannibal respectfully permitted.

Despite her insistence that she was fine, the truth was that Bedelia really was not. She felt tired and sore and very emotional, the latter of which she attributed to the extent of her exhaustion, which the darkness of the room was increasing by the second, tempting her towards slumber. But she felt too anxious and afraid to allow herself to succumb to it; she was not fearful of Hannibal, per se, but rather the situation which they found themselves in. A situation which, with the single exception of her medical consultation, she had not discussed out loud before. But having spoken about it, especially with Hannibal, Bedelia found the true reality of the situation and its implications hitting her for the first time, rendering her frightened and apprehensive, vulnerable and exposed. And desperate for his comfort.

“You could stay with me” Bedelia suggested, her voice breaking the silence, and prompting Hannibal to watch her curiously. “I mean, you could lay with me, beside me, on the bed” she clarified, her words slightly slurred from a combination of her nervousness and exhaustion. “There’s plenty of room, and you’d certainly be close enough to monitor me” she added, her pronunciation of the final two words betraying her embarrassment. “And I would sleep better if you did” she added quietly.

Hannibal nodded slowly in agreement to Bedelia’s request, which was unexpected but far from unwelcome.

“I’ll just get changed” he said gently, before rising from the bed and heading into the ensuite.

Bedelia put the handkerchief down upon the bedside table, finding herself strangely unwilling to part with it, and then clasped her hands together in her lap once more. It was only as Hannibal returned to the bedroom that she realised they were no longer trembling.

Bedelia looked up and watched as Hannibal walked slowly around the bed and towards the space beside her. He was wearing dark blue silk pyjama bottoms and no shirt, and despite her exhaustion she felt a quiver deep within her at the beautiful image which he presented. She swallowed hard and forced such salacious thoughts from her mind, and looked up at him just as he got into bed beside her. Hannibal settled himself quite decorously on his own side of the bed, laying on his side so that he was facing her. Bedelia found herself suddenly feeling frozen to the spot, and most unwilling to lay down.

“Bedelia” Hannibal said gently, the sound of her name on his lips reaching her through her stupor. “I think you would be much more comfortable if you turn off the light and lay down” he added softly, his words a suggestion, not an order.

Bedelia released a slow breath before turning towards the bedside lamp and turning it off, and then laying back and easing herself beneath the covers. It was much easier than she had anticipated.

The darkness of the room, combined with her exhaustion and sudden feeling of vulnerability, prompted Bedelia to act in an uncharacteristic manner, which quite took Hannibal off-guard.

After laying still for a few moments, Bedelia found herself instinctively moving closer to Hannibal, reaching him quickly, and finding herself feeling relieved that he did not turn away or protest. However, after daring to edge a little closer still, Bedelia felt her curved belly press against his taut abdomen, and she froze with sudden fear, her sharp inhale of breath sounding impossibly loud in the darkness. Her frightened mind overriding her body’s desire to be close to him and feel his warm skin against her belly, and she started to move back instinctively, when she felt Hannibal move beside her, wrapping his left arm around her and placing his hand on her lower back, holding her in place.

Bedelia hesitated for a moment, before finding all of the tension her body had been carrying leaving her body at the sensation of his touch. And so, instead, she edged closer still, as grateful for Hannibal’s silence as she was for his clear demonstration of his desire for her to remain close to him. As her belly pressed against his abdomen once more, Bedelia tried to ignore her feelings of fear and anxiety, and focus instead on the calm, soothing sensation Hannibal’s touch had upon her mind and body. She therefore placed her hand upon his side, and then slowly draping her arm around him, as he responded by drawing her closer still. She felt him stir beside her, as he tilted his head down towards her and kissed her upon the forehead, a tender and loving gesture which removed any fear or doubt remaining from her mind and body. Indeed, Bedelia relaxed so quickly and so completely that she was fast asleep by the time Hannibal’s lips left her forehead.

Hannibal, whose mind was ablaze with this new knowledge which he was still trying to process and come to terms with, was not. And instead of sleeping, he remained wide awake, holding Bedelia in a comforting and protective embrace, as he contemplated the questions at the forefronts of both of their minds, Bedelia’s initial question weighing heavily upon his mind.

What, indeed, would happen now?


	34. Chapter 34

After laying beside Bedelia in the darkness for half an hour as he considered the implications of her pregnancy, Hannibal found himself becoming increasingly exhausted, and no longer able to remain awake. If Bedelia had not requested his company in bed he would be sitting in his chair beside her, or walking around the room, either of which would have made it easier to resist slumber. But in his present circumstances, he found that he could not. And so, after stroking some hair from Bedelia’s face and taking her temperature, and calculating her heart rate as her heart beat against his chest, Hannibal reassured himself that she was quite well and in a deep sleep, where he found himself promptly joining her.

Although he had only intended on sleeping for an hour or so, or perhaps a little longer to enable himself to complete all REM stages, his treacherous body held him captive for longer. Indeed, when Hannibal did wake it was four hours later, and the fact that he felt well-rested was little comfort to his annoyance at having slept for so long.

The moment he stirred from sleep he looked down and found Bedelia laying in the exact same position she had fallen asleep, on her side with her belly pressed against his chest. The only slight difference was that, instead of her right arm being draped around his waist, it was cradling her belly protectively as she slept. Hannibal’s annoyance at himself disappeared almost entirely at the sight before him, which he considered with curiosity and affection. He felt something stir deep within him, a nervous excitement which caused warmth to pool at the base of his belly and then radiate throughout his entire body. As he permitted himself to experience this emotion he continued to watch Bedelia as she slept, his attentions focused upon her subconscious action of cradling her belly. Hannibal found himself staring at the side of her prominent belly, and he experienced a strong feeling of pride at the knowledge that it was his child she was carrying, nurturing and protecting even whilst unconscious; he was the reason for that distinct swell of her belly, of the life growing inside her, the owner of that strong heartbeat which he had committed to memory. For a moment, this pride and this excitement overrode his practical and logical concerns almost entirely.

Hannibal’s musings were distracted suddenly by Bedelia, who shifted slightly in her sleep, continuing to cradle her belly as she lowered her head in search of a cooler part of the pillow. Although she had collapsed, Hannibal was acutely aware of the fact that she had either been unconscious for or slept for over ten hours. And despite her collapse, it was unlikely that she would sleep for much longer, though he hoped that she would.

Knowing that Bedelia would be hungry when she woke, and keen to continue looking after her despite the protests which he anticipated from his fiercely independent lover, Hannibal reluctantly eased himself out of the bed, wrapped the covers around her and headed into the bathroom. There was much that would need to be done that day, and indeed during the days that followed.

After washing his face and brushing his teeth, Hannibal found a plain white t-shirt which he sometimes wore to bed, and pulled it on just as he stepped out of the ensuite and back into the bedroom. He was relieved to find Bedelia fast asleep in his bed, her position much the same. Despite intending on making breakfast for Bedelia, something filling and nutritious and restorative for the expectant mother, he found himself feeling concerned about leaving her, even just to go into another room. He stood for a while at the bottom of the bed, watching her as she slept. He forced himself to remember that she was fine; she was healthy and safe and so was their child, and the best thing he could do for both of them now was to provide sustenance. 

Hannibal therefore turned on his heel and walked quietly out of the bedroom, closing the door gently behind him to ensure that Bedelia would not be woken prematurely by any sounds she might hear coming from the kitchen.

Hannibal turned on the lights and moved around the kitchen with confidence, quickly obtaining everything he knew he would require. As Bedelia refused to eat any meat that he prepared (or indeed, any meat whatsoever) his options were more limited than he would have liked, as ideally he would have prepared a breakfast rich in protein, though this was not something he could not overcome. And so, Hannibal quickly selected the ingredients he would require and set to work in preparing Bedelia a restorative breakfast which he hoped would mark the beginning of her recovery.

Five minutes after Hannibal left the bedroom, Bedelia found herself stirring from her slumber, her body informing her of his absence before she had even opened her eyes.

Bedelia blinked groggily and slowly opened her eyes, finding herself feeling warm and comfortable and not quite ready to wake just yet. The room was quiet and she felt calm, the sound of distant movements from the kitchen informing her of Hannibal’s current location. At the thought of Hannibal, Bedelia found memories of the night before quickly returning to the forefront of her mind, of her conversations with Hannibal, her crying, him comforting her, and her request that he sleep next to her in his bed. _“I would sleep better if you did”_ she had said, the memory of her weak and weary voice returning to her, and causing her to feel suddenly overcome with embarrassment.

As the memories of the night before returned to her and caused her to feel increasingly embarrassed, Bedelia pushed herself up into a sitting position, closing her eyes and exhaling slowly at the unexpected wave of dizziness which struck her as she did. She then slowly opened her eyes and looked down, and found herself staring at her rounded belly, which was quite discernible through the silk nightdress she was wearing, especially as the bedsheets rested beneath it. Bedelia placed her hand tenderly upon her belly, lightly caressing it and then resting her hand at its base, as she leaned back against the pillows and tried to force herself to relax, knowing that it was best for the baby. But she found herself unable to do so.

As Bedelia sat up against the pillows, she found herself feeling deeply embarrassed at the uncharacteristically emotional and vulnerable state she had been in the night before. The memories she had of the conversations she had had with Hannibal made her feel weak and powerless and incredibly frustrated with herself; the fact she had ended the night by practically pleading with Hannibal to stay with her and then snuggling up to him like a teenager increased her embarrassment tenfold, and she closed her eyes for a moment as though to erase the event from her mind, despite knowing she could not. And the memory of his strong, protective hands upon her as he held her close was something she could not quite permit herself to let go. Indeed, she could still feel the ghost of his touch upon her lower back.

Sighing gently, Bedelia found herself lowering her gaze once more, her eyes befalling her rounded belly. As she stared at her ever-changing form, she found herself wondering whether it was possible she had gained weight overnight, as surely she had not been this big yesterday? As her right hand was cradling the base of her belly, Bedelia stroked from the top to the bottom with her left, her touch drawing the silk material of her nightdress closer to her skin, and highlighting her rounded belly. She felt her heart begin to race at the sight of her ever-growing size, and she found herself afflicted with familiar feelings of fear and vulnerability once again, which the feeling of the warm, taut skin beneath her palm increased tenfold.

After permitting herself a full minute to acknowledge and accept the feelings she was having, Bedelia forcefully pulled herself out of them, and instead concentrated on the present. Her conduct last night, when she had been vulnerable and afraid, was most unlike her; the fact she had collapsed whilst pregnant (something which she blamed herself for entirely) and had been forced to face Hannibal with the truth about her condition and associated deception had caused her uncharacteristically emotional reaction. Under the circumstances, and from as objective a viewpoint she could establish, she had not reacted in as needy a manner as she had feared. And from what she remembered, Hannibal had responded in a very kind and supportive manner when she had become upset; indeed, her emotional state had not seemed to unsettle him, and he had not judged or belittled her for it. Quite the contrary, in fact, he had supported her fully. Which, under the circumstances, she felt was far more than she deserved.

Not wishing to descend into the emotional rabbit hole once more, Bedelia tore her thoughts away from her guilt and forced herself to focus. After her vulnerable and emotional display last night, she needed to re-establish control of herself, appear confident and capable of dealing with their current situation, and assure Hannibal that she was absolutely fine. However, the fact that he had insisted upon her spending the weekend in bed to ‘recover’ would make this very difficult indeed; as she considered his words concerning bedrest, she found herself wondering what _exactly_ he had meant by it. Did he simply mean that she needed to rest and not exert herself, so she could spend some time relaxing in the parlour or reading in the study? Or did he mean _actual_ bedrest in the medical sense, where she would be confined to her bed (or rather, his bed) for two full days? The prospect of the latter caused Bedelia’s stomach to clench and panic to overcome her; she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t sit in a bed all weekend and allow Hannibal to wait on her, her pride and her guilt would not allow it.

However, despite Bedelia’s reluctance to rest for the entire weekend (potentially exclusively in bed), she found herself both unable and unwilling to argue with it. Hannibal had been right; her pregnancy was high-risk, she had collapsed, and she had experienced other complications. It would be reckless bordering on cruel for her to risk her baby’s safety. Which, she reminded herself, she had done the night before. Though of course she had not meant to.

Inhaling an unsteady breath, Bedelia continued to gently caress her belly, though she found herself unable to look at it, or to acknowledge what it was she was doing. It was too much, too frightening and too overwhelming. She had never imagined that the waist-trainer would cause her to collapse, and had not believed it to be a danger to her baby; she had rationalised it to the point of madness, seeking comfort in the fact that women had worn corsets during pregnancy for centuries and had been fine, and this was hardly a corset and it was just for a few hours.

 _How could I have been so stupid?_ Bedelia thought angrily, frowning as she thought, the all too familiar sensation of tears stinging her eyes returning to her once more. She quickly calmed herself and wiped them away, recovering almost as quickly as she had faltered.

 _It was a mistake, a stupid, ignorant mistake, one which I will never repeat_ , she assured herself. She continued to stroke her belly in rhythmic, soothing motions, finding it to be more calming than she had anticipated. _I will try harder to be better, I promise._

As Bedelia felt tears stinging the corners of her eyes once more, she inhaled sharply and let out an unsteady breath, just as the bedroom door slowly opened. Bedelia turned immediately towards the doorway and found herself staring at Hannibal, who was standing confidently in the doorway and holding a breakfast tray. He was wearing the dark blue silk pyjama bottoms, a white t-shirt and a look of affection and curiosity which quickly descended into concern as he watched her. Bedelia swallowed the lump in her throat as she felt his eyes upon her belly, and she found herself stilling the gentle caressing motions her left hand had been performing, flushing with embarrassment and lowering her hand from her belly altogether. She felt the loss of the warm contact immediately, and fought a strong instinct to return it.

“Good morning” Hannibal said warmly, as he slowly made his way towards Bedelia, who was subconsciously pulling the bedsheets up to cover her belly.

“Good morning” she replied, faltering slightly as she spoke. She felt weak and upset and rather confused, though Hannibal’s presence was of a considerable comfort.

However, the tray which Hannibal was holding, which held a plate of food which smelled delicious, soon distracted her from her thoughts and made her focus on something much more primal. Her stomach growled suggestively as Hannibal walked wordlessly towards her and placed the tray in her lap, thankfully not commenting upon her slightly distressed state, which allowed her to focus entirely on the matter directly before her. On the tray was a plate containing a large omelette, which smelled divinely of eggs, spring onions, bell peppers and tomatoes. There was also a small bowl of sliced fruit, containing oranges and apples banana and melon, and several others she could not immediately identify. A tall glass of freshly squeezed orange juice was on the far right, and next to it was a large lemon muffin. Bedelia found herself feeling suddenly famished, and her mouth began to water.

“I thought you might be hungry” Hannibal ventured, as he sat down beside her.

“I am” Bedelia replied, before forcing her attentions away from the plate before her, and looking up to meet his gaze. “Thank you, Hannibal” she added, finding herself feeling rather embarrassed by the effort he had gone to.

“You are most welcome” Hannibal responded, his voice kind and assured. “It is important that you eat, to regain your strength” he added gently. Bedelia nodded automatically in response. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice imbued with care and sincerity. He really wanted to know.

“Hungry” Bedelia responded lightly, still trying to suppress her rising feelings of embarrassment. Hannibal held her gaze.

“Bedelia” he said patiently. Bedelia let out a slow breath.

“I’m fine” Bedelia assured him. “I’m just tired and a little dizzy” she confessed, knowing that lying to him would be futile, and would most likely only increase his concern for her. “I’m sure I’ll feel much better after I’ve eaten” she added confidently. Hannibal nodded slowly in response.

“I’m sure you will” Hannibal replied. Bedelia found herself relaxing slightly. “Would you like me to run you a bath?” he offered kindly. “It might make you feel more comfortable” he advised. “And help you to relax” he added.

“Yes, thank you” Bedelia responded. “That would be wonderful” she added gratefully. Hannibal reached up and tucked one of her curls behind her ear, his eyes not leaving her gaze as he did so. Bedelia felt her breath hitch.

“Enjoy your breakfast” Hannibal said kindly. “I’ll be right back” he assured her, as he rose to his feet and walked confidently into the bathroom.

Bedelia watched Hannibal until he was out of sight, before a persistent growl in her belly reminded her of her body’s (and her baby’s) hunger. Which was not at all surprising, given her lack of sustenance from the day before. As Bedelia considered Hannibal’s words and contemplated the food before her, she found herself remembering the very fact which had confused and concerned her so much from her discussions with Hannibal the night before: he was not angry with her. He had every right to be, every reason, and yet he was not. He had questioned her decision not to tell him, but he had not criticised her for it. He had not displayed any signs of being angry with her at all, in fact his response had been one defined by concern for her and their baby. Part of Bedelia had wondered whether this might change when she woke, whether Hannibal would have considered the position during the night or early morning without the distraction of tending to her, and perhaps his anger would follow, but it did not. Instead, he had looked at her this morning with the same expression of affection and concern as he had the night before; and it was as sincere today as it had been last night.

The combination of her relief at Hannibal’s reaction and her own pervading sense of hunger prompted Bedelia to pick up her cutlery and begin to eat the omelette, which was light and golden and utterly divine. She found herself feeling more acutely aware of her hunger as she ate, despite feeling more comfortable and sated with every mouthful. She was aware that she was eating the omelette entirely too quickly, but she was powerless to make herself stop. The food was delicious and filling and incredibly comforting, and before she realised she had started she had eaten the omelette, drank half of the orange juice and was three quarters of the way through the fruit. The sound of running water from the next room provided a soothing backdrop of sound, and she felt herself relaxing almost completely, feeling sated and sleepy once more.

After establishing that she really could not eat another bite, despite her fondness for Hannibal’s lemon muffins, Bedelia found herself moving her bedsheets aside and easing herself out of the bed, her dizziness no longer present. She walked confidently towards the ensuite bathroom and lingered in the doorway for a moment, as she watched Hannibal adding purple orchid-scented bath salts to the hot water, which turned it a glorious shade of violet. Although his back was to her and she had approached him quietly, Bedelia watched as Hannibal stood up straight and tilted his head slightly to the side, before turning slowly towards her. She watched a faint expression of surprise upon his face, which quickly turned into one of welcome, as his gaze drifted from her face to her belly and then back to her eyes once more. Bedelia exhaled calmly and stepped into the bathroom.

“Your bath is almost ready” Hannibal informed her, his voice reaching her above the sound of the running water. He was relieved to find that some colour had returned to her cheeks, and her eyes shone with health; indeed, she was radiant.

Bedelia smiled softly and walked slowly towards Hannibal, whose eyes did not leave hers.

“Thank you, Hannibal” Bedelia said gently, her voice warm and sincere. “Perhaps you would like to join me?”


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> I'm sorry for my absence, and the considerable delay in updating. I've had a few personal matters to deal with which were rather difficult. I'll be uploading as frequently as possible from now on.
> 
> Thank you for your kind reviews and messages of support, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story.
> 
> Love,  
> HQ21

Bedelia held Hannibal’s gaze as he considered her offer. It had been a daring suggestion indeed, especially given the current circumstances. Hannibal had never bathed with Bedelia before, though he had tended to her whilst she bathed, as he enjoyed washing her hair and massaging her scalp, both of which he had a particular penchant for. Bedelia enjoyed his company and his ministrations, but Hannibal had never joined her in the bath before, and she herself had never suggested it to him, until now. The words had fallen from her lips without her permission or intention, the suggestion not being one which she had formed prior to entering the bathroom. And even as she had spoken, she felt that delicious combination of anxiety and excitement which caused her heart to race; a beat which increased tenfold when Hannibal surprised her with his answer.

“Of course” Hannibal replied, his voice a low, deep timbre. “It will be ready in a couple of minutes” he added. Bedelia blinked herself out of her stupor and nodded in acknowledgement. Bedelia watched as Hannibal lowered his gaze from her eyes to her belly, and found herself suddenly overcome by a strong wave of anxiety almost akin to panic.

“I’ll be back in a moment” she assured him, before turning on her heel and walking slowly out of the bathroom.

As Bedelia walked calmly out of Hannibal’s bedroom and into her own, she ran her hand gently down the front of her nightdress, stroking the material over her belly. Her rounded belly was already prominent and clearly visible, pushing defiantly against the fabric of her nightdress to make itself seen. Even though Hannibal now knew about her pregnancy, she found herself feeling both anxious and self-conscious by the physical proof of it.

Not wishing to dwell on thoughts and feelings which she had precious little time to properly consider and analyse, Bedelia walked across her bedroom and made her way towards her dressing table. She sat down on the stool and picked up her trusted golden hairclip, which she used to secure her golden curls into a casual yet elegant up-do suitable for bathing. As she checked her reflection moments later, she found her breath catching in her throat, as she scarcely recognised the person looking back at her.

Bedelia was pale, several shades lighter than usual, which made her golden hair and enchanting blue eyes seem considerably brighter. Though even her striking blue eyes could not detract from the darkness beneath them, which Bedelia found to be confusing given the fact she had slept soundly for almost ten hours. To add insult to injury, she found that her lips were pale and slightly chapped, and barely a single shade darker than her unhealthily pale skin. Although she felt rather tired, dizzy and a little unsteady on her feet, she had no idea she looked so unwell. Perhaps that was why Hannibal was being so attentive and accommodating, and had not displayed any anger towards her. Not yet, at least.

Bedelia was stunned by her appearance, and found herself instinctively reaching for her make-up, which she quickly realised would be ridiculous given the bath which awaited her. However, she did apply a single layer of lipstick, to give her a somewhat healthier, and more human expression, and she was moderately satisfied by her efforts.

Not wishing to consider her treacherous reflection for a moment longer, Bedelia rose to her feet and turned quickly towards her wardrobe, an action which she immediately regretted. She felt her head begin to spin and her body start to ache, her limbs feeling too heavy for her body, as her breathing deepened. She closed her eyes and braced herself against the wardrobe, breathing in slow, deep, rhythmic breaths which she was relieved to find caused her to quickly recover. She then took a few steps towards her chest of drawers and opened the middle drawer, quickly locating her black silk kimono. She pushed the straps of her nightdress over her shoulders and allowed it to fall from her body, pooling into a crumpled silk pool at her feet. She then wrapped the kimono around herself, forbidding herself even a glance at her rounded belly, lest the sight of it should cause her to descend into panic once more.

Feeling both guilty and unkind, Bedelia the turned her attentions back towards her wardrobe, opening the doors and casting her eyes across the contents. Although Hannibal had insisted she rest for the weekend, she had no intention of remaining in her nightclothes for the duration, like a weak and sickly Victorian character from the periodical press. However, as Bedelia considered the countless garments which were displayed before her, she found her heart sinking and her frustrating rising with each passing second.

As Bedelia had discovered over the past few weeks especially, there were very few items of clothing that she owned which were loose-fitting and comfortable; her staple garments were fitted, often tailored to fit her body perfectly. Although she had been able to continue wearing her clothes as her belly grew, with the help of control underwear, it had not been a pleasant or comfortable experience. Indeed, for the first time in her adult life, Bedelia had found the prospect of choosing an outfit and dressing to be both frustrating and anxiety-inducing, and she spent the entire time she was wearing the outfit fearful of what it revealed. And although Hannibal’s knowledge of her pregnancy meant that she was no longer required to conceal it, the prospect of abandoning the clothes which had formed part of her identity, especially in favour of new garments which may make her condition apparent, was something which terrified her.

Forcing her thoughts and feelings aside and branding herself ridiculous, Bedelia conducted a thorough search of her wardrobe which yielded no results; she found nothing which she could wear comfortably to simply lounge around all day in bed in. It had been a pressing issue over the last couple of weeks, and she had been looking forward to embracing a slightly less restricting wardrobe, but on her own terms and in her own time. This was not it. She was not ready.

And so, relenting, Bedelia returned her attentions to her chest of drawers, where she continued her search. Refusing to even consider the option of wearing a different nightdress or set of pyjamas after her bath, Bedelia was somewhat relieved to find a couple of pairs of leggings, which she had occasionally utilised when travelling long distance, or spending the day at home reading. She then opened another drawer and was delighted to find the thin light pink oversized jumper, which she had considered the adult equivalent of a comfort blanket. She had owned this particular garment since college and had never found herself able to part with it. As she lay the jumper over her arm, she glanced into the drawer she had found it in, and considered the three other loose-fitting tops she owned, which were the only ones she possessed. One was a royal-blue oversized t-shirt, the other a deep crimson jumper, and the last an oversized shirt in forest green. She seldom wore the garments, certainly not around Hannibal, and indeed she had almost forget they existed. But she suspected she would need to reacquaint herself with them now on a somewhat permanent basis.

Sighing wearily, Bedelia closed the drawer with a sad click, then busied herself with selecting more comfortable underwear than those she had had to endure in previous weeks. She then made her way into her ensuite bathroom and selected a clear bath towel, before making her way back towards Hannibal’s bedroom at a slightly-quicker step, conscious of how long she had taken.

Bedelia slowed her pace as she entered Hannibal’s bedroom, carrying her clothing across the room and into the ensuite, which she found appeared somewhat different to how it had done just moments before.

The lights were turned out and the room was quite dim, with only the freshly-lit candles providing glorious bursts of warm and bright light. The vanilla and honeysuckle scent of the candles melded with the scent of the orchid-scented bath salts, creating an ethereal and exotic ambience. The room was hot and steamy due to the heat from the bath, and Bedelia felt her own temperature begin to rise as she set her sights upon the familiar man standing before her.

Hannibal turned away from the bath and faced her directly. He was wearing nothing but the towel which was secured around his hips. The heat from the bath had caused his hair to become slightly damp, which resulted in a few locks escaping his perfectly maintained style. The uncharacteristic sight of Hannibal looking remotely undone was utterly glorious, especially when combined with the glorious sight of his bear, muscular chest. Bedelia’s heart began to race and her mouth went dry, her eyes darkening as Hannibal walked slowly towards her. A knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips, satisfaction at the effect he could have upon her. Bedelia’s grip on her towel and clothing tightened.

“May I take those for you?” he asked kindly, as he stood just inches away from her. Bedelia blinked herself out of her stupor and handed him her clothes, thanking him somewhat distractedly, as he laid them down neatly upon a nearby chair.

Bedelia used the opportunity to gather her thoughts and recover her composure, and she found herself feeling slightly confused to find him standing before her. She had taken such a long time in her bedroom she had presumed he would already be in the bath. Though her knowing mind provided her with an explanation for this the moment he turned back towards her and met her gaze once more.

Hannibal Lecter could be many things to many people, but he was, invariably, a gentleman.

“Thank you for waiting for me” Bedelia said gently. “I’m afraid it took a little longer to find suitable clothing than I realised” she explained.

Hannibal, who had not required an explanation, smiled softly and held her gaze.

“You could have simply remained in your nightdress” he suggested gently. Bedelia let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. For the second time that morning, words escaped her lips without her permission, causing her cheeks to burn with guilt almost immediately.

“I’m not ill, Hannibal” she said quietly, her tone one of disappointment rather than remonstration. She looked up and met Hannibal’s gaze with some trepidation, but found no signs of annoyance in his eyes.

“No, you are not” Hannibal agreed, choosing his words very carefully as he spoke. “But you do need to rest, which nightclothes are specifically designed for” he added with a soft half smile.

“So are leggings” Bedelia responded lightly. Hannibal’s smile grew and his eyes shone.

“I’m sure they are” he responded sincerely. “Though I will have to take your word for it” he added. Bedelia found herself relaxing for the first time she could remember, and she smiled at response. “After you” Hannibal added, gesturing to the bath as he spoke.

Bedelia glanced towards the steaming bathtub, which was filled with violet water which smelled divine, as her eyes befell the beautiful oasis. She took a few steps towards the tub, loosening the tie around the waist of her kimono, undoing the bow as she reached the edge of the bath.

“Allow me” came Hannibal’s voice from behind her, followed by the sensation of his gentle hands upon her shoulder blades. Bedelia shifted inside the kimono and allowed the black silk to fall from her body, where it was promptly gathered by Hannibal’s waiting hands. He then turned on the spot and carried it towards the chair where the rest of her clothing was.

Swallowing a strong and sudden feeling of self-consciousness, Bedelia used the opportunity of Hannibal’s distraction, Bedelia braced one hand on the side of the bath and eased herself into the water. The hot, scented waters embraced her body almost immediately, and she lowered herself with delight into the centre of the bath, resting her head upon her knees as she drew her legs towards her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she inhaled deeply, and allowed herself to become lost in their enchanting world, if only for a moment.

Even though she was enjoying the soothing and comforting effect of the water against her skin, Bedelia was conscious of the sound of Hannibal’s footsteps behind her. She heard him remove his towel and her heart began to race, each beat seeming louder and stronger as he approached.

She felt him step into the bath behind her, disturbing the calm waters as he joined her in them. She lifted her head and lowered her arms, and was about to edge forward to provide him with room to get comfortable, when she realised he had already done so. Hannibal was sitting directly behind her, his legs on either side of her body, bent at the knee pressed against the edges of the tub. Without thought or consideration, Bedelia edged back slowly, feeling the water move around her.

Within a few moments she felt her back pressed against Hannibal’s muscular chest, and her breath caught in her throat. She tilted her head to the side slightly, to gauge his reaction to her proximity, and his warm lips pressed against hers in a wordless reply. Bedelia’s eyes fluttered closed and she returned the kiss immediately. Bedelia relaxed against Hannibal’s chest and hummed breathlessly against his kiss, as he placed his left arm around her, resting decorously across her waist and drawing her closer.

Moments later, they broke the kiss, and Bedelia rested her head against Hannibal’s right shoulder, her eyes remaining closed as she relaxed against him, basking in the familiar feelings of safety and security which she always experienced when he held her in his arms.

They remained perfectly still and silent for some time, Hannibal holding Bedelia against him as she surrendered herself to the calming sensation of the hot and scented waters.

Hannibal felt Bedelia’s heart beating steadily against his arm, which remained draped quite decorously around her waist. After several minutes, Hannibal reached for a flannel and immersed it deep beneath the water. He then lathered it in soap, before wordlessly beginning to wash Bedelia with it, rubbing the expensive scented soap across her chest. Bedelia hummed in approval and arched her neck slightly, enabling him to wash that too, as she allowed herself to fall deeper into this blissful surrender. She barely thought and she did not speak, instead she allowed herself to be lost completely in this gloriously revitalising experience.

Hannibal spent the next ten minutes tending to Bedelia, washing her neck and chest, before moving onto her arms and hands. He held one hand and stretched out her arm, washing her in a meticulous and sensual manner which caused every nerve ending she had to feel as though it was on fire.

After washing both of her arms and hands, Hannibal applied more soap onto the flannel, before capturing her left hand in his own and entwining their fingers. Bedelia shifted slightly into a comfortable position against him, her head resting upon his collar and her eyes remaining closed, as Hannibal guided the flannel across her sensitive breasts and then beneath them, before travelling slowly across her waist and then lower still.

Bedelia, who was immersed deeply in her relaxed state, had been on the cusp of sleep when she was torn suddenly and firmly from it.

Bedelia had been enjoying Hannibal’s relaxing ministrations so much, that she had not realised where they were leading, and before she had time to consider it she felt his gentle fingertips massaging the soapy flannel against her rounded belly. The sensation of his hand upon her belly caused Bedelia to panic, and she gasped and pushed it away instinctively, her eyes opening wide as she let go of his hand and tried to sit up.

Hannibal had removed his hands from her the moment she had displayed an aversion to his ministrations, but he reached out instinctively to steady her as soon as she had sat up so abruptly, disturbing the hot waters which surrounded them. He placed one hand on her waist and the other on her upper arm, watching her with an expectant curiosity as she sat still before him. He could feel the tension beneath his touch, and her heart was racing. Had she displayed any further aversion towards his touch he would have removed his hands immediately, but she did not. Instead, she recovered herself quite quickly, and made it apparent that she not only accepted his touch, but she welcomed it.

Embarrassment and panic overcame her almost immediately, and she turned her head towards him and met Hannibal’s gaze. He was looking upon her with gentleness and patience, which was underlain by an understandable curiosity. She parted her lips and battled to put her complicated thoughts into words, which was an increasingly impossible task when it came to this particular subject. She was about to say something she felt would be almost entirely nonsensical when Hannibal saved her by speaking first.

“I’m sorry, Bedelia” he said sincerely, his voice gentle and deep. “That was rather thoughtless of me, and I apologise” he added, his words confusing Bedelia somewhat. Why was he being so reasonable and understanding, and so kind? “I promise from now on I will keep my hands entirely to myself” he said gently, offering her a gentle smile, which she returned. 

Without speaking, Bedelia turned her head away from him and leaned against him once more, before guiding his left arm across her waist as it had been just minutes before. Though this time, her eyes remained open, her heartbeat decreasing with each moment that passed, together with her embarrassment.

After a couple of minutes, Bedelia ran her fingers across Hannibal’s left arm, which was draped across her waist. She then laid her hand over his, lacing her fingers between his own, and enjoying the warmth of the sensation of his touch against his skin. Feeling her heart begin to race once more as she experienced the now familiar sensation of excitement melded with fear, Bedelia gently guided Hannibal’s hand diagonally across her body, until it reached the base of her rounded belly.

Bedelia’s breath caught in her throat as she pressed his hand encouragingly against the base of her belly. She exhaled slowly and closed her eyes as she felt Hannibal splay his fingers across her curved belly, the warmth and strength of his touch causing warmth to radiate throughout her body, as butterflies replaced the sickening sensation of fear which had lingered in the pit of her stomach.

After keeping his hand still for a few moments to ensure that Bedelia was indeed comfortable with his touch, Hannibal gently moved his hand upwards slightly and further extended his fingers, so that the was effectively cradling her belly in his palm. Her skin was strong and taut yet smooth beneath his touch, as he felt the prominent swell of her belly, which was beginning to take shape. Her rounded belly made it quite clear that she was pregnant, which filled him with a feeling he had seldom experienced before; excitement, anticipation and curiosity, with an undeniable overtone of fear.

It was exhilarating.

Hannibal smiled softly to himself as he stared at Bedelia’s belly, her hand joining his moments later, resting gently on top of his own. There was a hesitance in her touch, and he sensed a nervousness in her movements and her body, which felt ever so slightly tense against his own. Bedelia was an intelligent and highly-perceptive woman, and it was understandable that she was experiencing fear and anxiety about both her pregnancy itself, and the fact that she had intentionally concealed it from him. Although he was hurt and frustrated by her actions, he found himself understanding them completely. And regardless of them, he was determined to reassure her and care for her, and ensure that she had as safe and healthy a pregnancy and delivery as possible.

“It’s alright” Hannibal soothed, breathing the words against her ear, before kissing her neck gently. He felt Bedelia exhale and relax slowly into him once more, though her hand remained firmly upon his own. “Everything will be alright.”


	36. Chapter 36

Hannibal and Bedelia remained together in the bath for almost an hour, their bodies entwined and relaxed beneath the hot, scented water.

Despite her attempts to remain awake, Bedelia found the combination of her physical and emotional exhaustion fell victim to the warm and tranquil atmosphere which Hannibal had created especially for her. His attempts to help her to relax had proven successful, perhaps too successful in Bedelia’s view, as she had found herself drifting off to sleep on no less than three occasions. Although she had managed to rouse herself quite quickly the first two times, and had focused all her energy on remaining awake, she was powerless to prevent her third descent into slumber. Instead of forcing herself to wake up almost immediately, Bedelia slept for almost half an hour, and only began to stir due to the fact that the water had become too cool to be comfortable.

Realising that some time must have passed, and finding herself feeling less comfortable without that glorious heat, Bedelia pushed herself up into a sitting position and turned towards Hannibal, who was watching her with a look of relaxed expectancy. Hannibal smiled softly at her and brushed a stray curl behind her ear.

“I think it’s time you returned to bed” he said gently, the warmth of his voice almost sending her back into a deep, comforting slumber. But Bedelia resisted.

“I’m fine” Bedelia returned, her eyes slightly hazy, and her voice heavy with sleep. A small smile tugged at the corners of Hannibal’s mouth, and he leaned closer to her. Bedelia felt her heart begin to race.

“I know you’re fine” Hannibal responded kindly. “But I believe you would be more comfortable resting in the bed” he continued, his eyes holding her gaze as he spoke. Bedelia considered his words, and seemed to be about to protest again, when Hannibal spoke. “The water will be cold soon” he reminded her. Bedelia sighed lightly and nodded, before turning away from him and reaching towards the plug.

By the time Bedelia had removed the plug and risen to her feet, Hannibal had already got out of the bath and wrapped a towel around his waist. As she turned to reach for a towel she found her lover standing before her, holding one out open, ready for her to step into. Bedelia stepped forward and allowed Hannibal to wrap the towel around her, as she made a herculean attempt to focus her attentions on his face and not the gloriously toned abs which she had missed so terribly. The fact that they were dripping with scented water did little to assist her attempts.

Bedelia blinked herself out of her stupor and met Hannibal’s gaze once more, feeling his strong hands holding her so tenderly as she secured her towel around herself. She suddenly found herself feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious, and almost exposed, as she stood before him. Although he had certainly seen her naked body since discovering her pregnancy, the water had concealed most of her figure whilst they had bathed together. And now she found herself feeling tired and heavy and achy and embarrassed. The knowledge that the taut skin of her rounded belly currently bore red marks from the device she had inflicted upon it the night before increased both her guilt and self-consciousness tenfold. She blushed and lowered her eyes, before drawing her towel unnecessarily tighter around her body and securing it once more. Hannibal removed his hand from her waist, where it had rested quite decorously, in case she should feel unsteady on her feet.

“Thank you” she said softly, blinking tiredly as she offered him a polite smile. Hannibal nodded in response.

“I’ll give you some privacy” he said kindly, having observed the clear signs of her self-consciousness.

Bedelia hoped that her relief was not so obvious as to be insulting when she nodded gratefully in response.

Hannibal turned on the spot and walked confidently towards the door, the candlelight throughout the room flickering and casting shadows across the strong, taut muscles of his bare back. Bedelia found herself staring at him as he departed, her heart racing as a familiar sensation of anticipation and excitement blossomed in her belly, as her breathing deepened and her pupils dilated. It was only when he closed the door behind himself with a soft click that the spell was broken, and she finally emerged from her trance.

Bedelia made her way towards the bathroom mirror and brushed her hand across it, revealing her reflection through the condensation. Although her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the room, she still looked very pale, her lips were frighteningly white, and her red eyes betrayed her exhaustion. Sighing resignedly, Bedelia turned promptly away from her treacherous reflection and made her way towards her clothing, which she had placed on a nearby chair. She quickly dried herself and put on her underwear, leggings and the light pink oversized jumper, immersing herself into a world of comfort which she had denied herself from for the past few weeks.

The leggings came up over her curved belly, and felt secure without being too tight, and the soft, light and unrestricting material of her jumper was such a pleasant change from the control underwear she had been enduring that she found herself sighing in relief. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so comfortable and relaxed; it was nice to not to have to choose an outfit based on how well it would hide her condition. Instead, she was starting to embrace it.

Slowly, of course. And with a degree of restraint.

After allowing herself to bask in comfort for a couple of minutes, Bedelia looked down at her belly, which was concealed beneath the soft fabric of her trusted jumper. She bit the inside of her cheek slightly, as she placed a tentative hand upon her belly, splaying her fingers and tugging the material across her body to highlight her rounded tummy. The material clung willingly to her, and proudly presented the prominent swell which she had been trying so desperately to conceal. Even through the material of the jumper, Bedelia could feel the warm, taut skin of the baby bump beneath her palm. It was both invigorating and terrifying, and everything in between all at once. After a few moments of staring at her belly – which was surely increasing growing noticeably bigger with each passing day – Bedelia experienced a sudden and strong sensation of fear bordering on panic, and she immediately removed her hand from her belly.

Almost as soon as she let go, she was struck by a strong and instinctive desire to touch her belly again; to place her hand over the prominent swell and hold it. There was something comforting about it, and she missed the sensation of her hand upon her taut, curved belly.

And that terrified her.

Ignoring her instincts for fear of growing too connected to something which she knew very well she still might lose, Bedelia busied herself by turning on the harsh light of the bathroom and extinguishing each candle one by one. She then quickly tidied the bathroom and placed her towel in the washing basket before untying her hair and heading back into the bedroom, where she was quickly distracted by the sight of Hannibal Lecter standing next to the bed.

Bedelia glanced curiously around the bedroom, and realised that Hannibal had indeed been busy during her temporary absence. He had tidied the room, opened the windows (though left the curtains closed) and made the bed (with a corner folded over open suggestively). He was also, at present, lowering a silver salver onto the bedside table, which was generously laden with a tall glass jug filled with freshly squeezed orange juice, ice and sliced orange and lemon. There was also a plate containing three lemon muffins, which caused her mouth to water, reigniting a hunger which she had felt certain had been sated. Bedelia tried to ignore the strong feeling of guilt which was threatening to overcome her, as Hannibal turned on the spot and looked towards her.

Bedelia watched Hannibal’s eyes drift quickly down her body then meet her gaze once more, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. She doubted that a man so fond of couture would approve of her current state of dress, but based on the expression on his face she had been mistaken. Indeed, as he made his way towards her he was practically radiating approval, satisfaction and relief in equal measure. She almost forgot about her anxiety and her guilt for a moment.

But only a moment.

“I thought you might be hungry” he explained, his voice warm and kind. Bedelia’s expression softened.

“I just ate” she reminded him lightly. Hannibal saw curiosity and amusement in her eyes and smirked in response, before adopting a softer, though slightly more serious expression.

“I had noticed your recent fondness for them, and had baked them more frequently as a result” he advised, tilting his head slightly towards the treats in question, before meeting Bedelia’s gaze once more. “I did not, however, discern the real reason for that fondness” he added quietly.

Bedelia’s smile faltered slightly and she lowered her eyes from his.

“There are a dozen more in the kitchen for you” he continued, in an attempt to comfort her. A small smile ghosted across her lips. “How are you feeling?” he asked kindly, his voice and his demeanour filled with sincerity. Bedelia swallowed hard and forced herself to meet his gaze once again. “Please don’t say ‘fine’” he politely requested. Bedelia sighed gently in response.

“I’m tired, despite having slept for so long” she admitted, her tone one of regret and embarrassment, as though confessing to some profound weakness. Hannibal watched her and listened attentively. “And also a little light-headed, though I suspect that’s linked to the tiredness” she added, with noticeable reluctance. Hannibal nodded in understanding. He was glad that she was being candid with him. Well, almost.

“I agree that your light-headedness is almost certainly linked to your exhaustion-”

“I said ‘tired’” Bedelia reminded him.

“I know” Hannibal responded simply, his eyes holding her gaze. “Whatever word you choose to use to describe the sensation, I’m sure one thing we can agree on is that it is your body’s way of telling you that you need to rest” he reasoned gently. Bedelia swallowed hard and bit the inside of her cheek. “Despite your natural aversion to doing so” he added, his voice filled with kindness and understanding. “I thought you might appreciate some time alone today, so I will be in the kitchen or the study if you need me” he explained. Bedelia felt something inside her sink. “I’ll come and see you every couple of hours to check on you” he advised. Bedelia swallowed hard and tried to ignore the feeling of loss and discomfort she was already beginning to feel at his absence, her head nodding treacherously as she did so.

Hannibal had turned on the spot and taken a few steps towards the door, and was reaching towards the handle when she found she could contain herself no longer.

“Hannibal” Bedelia said suddenly, stepping forward as she spoke.

There was an urgency in her tone, which was so unfamiliar and un-attributable to her that it caught Hannibal quite off-guard. He turned towards her immediately and took a couple of steps forward. She met his gaze with a nervous expression she was clearly trying to conceal, and he resisted a strong instinct to touch her. Instead, he remained respectfully silent and waited patiently for her to speak. He did not have to wait for long.

“What happens now?” Bedelia asked, her voice quiet and controlled, as she voiced the question which had been weighing most heavily upon her ever since she discovered her pregnancy, and which had become even more pressing following Hannibal’s discovery of it.

Hannibal stared at Bedelia for several moments, her question throwing him somewhat; she wasn’t simply referring to today. Although he had expected them to discuss the matter, he had not anticipated that it would be this soon. Despite her assurances to the contrary, Bedelia was not well, and she needed to rest in order to aid her recovery and give her pregnancy the best chance of success. Hannibal would not allow anything to compromise that, so he felt he had no choice but to be honest with her. After all, she would know if he was lying.

“That is entirely up to you, Bedelia” Hannibal responded, his voice calm and filled with kindness and sincerity, his eyes not leaving hers as he spoke. “It is something that I hope we will discuss when you have recovered” he continued. “Whilst I hope you will take my thoughts into consideration, I realise that the decision itself will ultimately be yours” he conceded. “The only thing I will insist upon is that you rest for this weekend, and longer if your health requires it” he added simply.

Bedelia stared at Hannibal for some time, finding herself shocked by both his candour and his sincerity. She believed every word he said, and she found herself nodded slowly in agreement to his terms.

“The rest will be up to you” he added simply, before taking a couple of steps towards her and kissing her on the cheek. “Please try to get some rest” he whispered, holding her gaze steadily for just a moment, before turning on the spot and walking confidently out of the room, and closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

Bedelia exhaled sharply and took a few steps back, before slowly easing herself onto the edge of the bed, clasping her hands in her lap as she considered Hannibal’s words.

And the profound effect they had upon her.


	37. Chapter 37

_“The rest will be up to you.”_

Hannibal’s words echoed in Bedelia’s mind as she perched on the edge of her bed, bunching handfuls of the fabric of the quilt in either hand, as though to tether herself to her new reality.

Although she had been fearful of his anger and the inevitable consequences that would result from her betrayal, Hannibal had surprised her by displaying an unanticipated degree of understanding and acceptance of the reasons she concealed her pregnancy from him. Despite the fact that her pregnancy was certainly unplanned and incredibly unexpected, Hannibal had displayed genuine care and interest in their unborn child, and also in her. Whilst she was relieved that he clearly accepted – and possibly even _wanted_ – this child, she knew that it was unlikely that this would extend to her, due to her intentions of concealing the baby’s existence from him. And although her reasons for doing so had been due to genuine concern for the safety of their child, objectively, she would not blame him for being angry, or even vengeful. Which was why his kindness surprised her.

At first she had warily attributed his reaction and demeanour as a result of his desire not to cause her any stress which could compromise her already high-risk pregnancy, which she found herself becoming increasingly confident was the case. But the sincere acts of kindness and care he was displaying towards her – and they were sincere, of that she had no doubt – caused her to call her initial hypothesis into question. And this recent conversation turned her previous viewpoint on its head completely.

Not only did Hannibal clearly care about her wellbeing as an individual and as the mother of their child, it also appeared that he trusted her, and was giving her a choice. He was also providing her with time alone, which he knew as her colleague and her lover she would both appreciate and require, to recover and to make a choice concerning her next course of action. A choice which, from his words and his actions, he seemed poised to accept. Indeed, he had, to an extent, accepted the logic of her reasoning in not telling him about the baby. Although he had displayed disappointment that she had not confided in him about her pregnancy, his feelings on her concealment of her condition had only bordered on anger when she continued to hide it even when she was suffering from ill health and complications. Was this due to the risk he felt she put upon their child, or herself? Or both?

_Perhaps this is all a test_ , Bedelia thought sceptically. _A new game which he intends to play, with the two of us as the main participants,_ she considered. _And he is currently putting all of the pieces on the board, and waiting for me to make the first move._

Was it possible that this was what Hannibal was doing? Giving her the illusion of freedom out of curiosity to see how she would act? If so, there was surely only one consequence for her erring from his desired (or intended) choice.

Whilst Bedelia did not doubt his ability to carry out such an elaborate plan, she did question the likelihood given the facts. The concern Hannibal had displayed for the wellbeing of herself and their unborn child was genuine and profound. He was being very attentive and thorough in his care for her, insisting on bedrest and monitoring her routinely. He was making sure she was eating and drinking and had been strongly encouraging her to relax and to rest. Surely that proved that he cared about her wellbeing, and about her? Or was it that she simply wanted to believe that this could be true, as the alternative explanation was simply too horrifying to imagine.

_What if he just wants the baby?_ Bedelia’s treacherous mind taunted. _What if he’s only taking care of me because it is essential that I am in the best health to increase my chances carrying this child to term?_ She wondered. _Perhaps this is simply the equivalent of treating a pregnant horse well to ensure the safety of the foal_.

Perhaps he would simply wait to exact his revenge upon her until she had safely delivered their child. It was a patient and calculated move which she knew he was more than capable of.

Bedelia shuddered at the thought. The prospect of Hannibal considering her to be expendable was a terrifying prospect indeed, especially now, when it was not only her life at risk. But there was one thing she was certain about amidst all of the doubt and confusion and conjecture.

Hannibal Lecter wanted this child. He wanted his child – _their_ child. Though for what reason, she did not know.

Paternal pride, a familial connection, the prospect of recreating the bond he had with his sister?

_The chance to raise an heir whom he would treat as a protégée, on a deeper and more intimate level, to carry on his work? A relationship of this nature, especially with his own child, would make his obsession with Will Graham seem like a mere fleeting interest by comparison._

At the horrifying prospect of her child enduring such a life, Bedelia rose promptly to her feet and hurried into the bathroom, where she made it to the toilet just in time to be violently sick.

After vomiting the majority of her breakfast and a fair amount of bile, Bedelia sat on the cool tiled floor for several minutes as she willed her aching head to stop spinning. She felt dizzy and tired and confused and most unlike herself; she needed to be able to think clearly in order to decide her next move, but her treacherous body was preventing her from doing so. She found it quite terrifying to be so uncharacteristically out of control.

Resigning herself to the fact that she felt too shaken and exhausted to form anything resembling a coherent thought, Bedelia pushed herself up onto her feet, standing on trembling legs as she pulled the antique silver chain of the toilet flush.

After rinsing her mouth with cold water, she walked slowly back into the bedroom in a dazed, almost dream-like state, her weary eyes gazing longingly at the bed. The quilt and pillows were incredibly inviting, and she snuggled down beneath the sheets and willed her body to sleep, which was something it willingly permitted.

The last thing Bedelia saw before she fell asleep were the lemon muffins which Hannibal had baked for her, which teased her with their taunting perfection, as her sore eyes slowly closed and she surrendered herself to sleep once more.

After sleeping soundly and deeply for several hours, Bedelia found herself stirring back to consciousness in so gradual a way she found it almost soothing. Her body felt light and painless, and she no longer ached for sleep as she had done so earlier that day. She was also aware of a prevalent feeling of hunger.

Without even opening her eyes Bedelia could sense that some time had passed, and that she was now considerably more rested than she had been before. Fragments of her previous thoughts and concerns came into focus in her mind, but she was neither able nor willing to entertain them just now, so she dispelled them immediately. Indeed, she was almost on the cusp of returning to her much-needed slumber, when she became acutely aware of the sound of the door handle slowly turning.

Although she was curious, both her mind and her body were reluctant to release her from slumber, and so she remained suspended between the worlds of consciousness and of sleep.

Until a delicious aroma of scents ignited her ever-pressing hunger, and her eyes slowly drifted open.

Bedelia turned towards the scent of the food and opened her eyes just as Hannibal laid down a silver salver upon the bedside table. She pushed herself up tiredly into a sitting position, resting against the headboard, as Hannibal turned towards her, and offered her a warm smile.

  
“You’re awake” he remarked quietly, as he released his hold upon the silver salver, and sat down beside her on the bed. Bedelia inhaled his bewitching scent, which for a moment overwhelmed the delicious aroma of the food before her, and caused her heart to race. “You’ve been fast asleep each time I have checked on you” he said softly. “I apologise if I woke you” he added sincerely. Bedelia shook her head tiredly and tried to force herself to focus on Hannibal, and not her lunch.

“You didn’t” she assured him. Hannibal held her gaze and smile softly.

“How are you feeling?” Hannibal asked gently, his tone curious and his gaze confident and fixed, as he displayed every sign of genuinely wanting to know.

Bedelia’s breath caught in her throat. In truth, she was feeling tired, shaky and a little light-headed, though she suspected that was due to her recent spell of sickness and subsequent hunger. And even if it weren’t, those symptoms were quite common during pregnancy, and she was perfectly alright, as she continued to remind herself. Despite not quite believing it entirely.

“Fine” she responded, punctuating the lie with a smile. Hannibal held her gaze as he considered her answer, and Bedelia knew instantly that he did not believe her. He turned his attentions away from her and towards the silver salver.

“I made you authentic minestrone soup” Hannibal announced. “With cannellini beans, leeks, potatoes, red onion and butternut squash” he explained, before turning towards Bedelia and meeting her gaze once more. “Served with traditional Italian bread” he added, offering her a polite smile. Bedelia’s hunger intensified and she felt her mouth begin to water. “I am hopeful that the soup will help to settle your stomach, and provide you with the nutrients you have lost as a result of your sickness” he advised.

Bedelia’s smile faltered and her eyes widened. How did he know she had been sick? She was sure she had been quite discreet about it. She vaguely remembered that she had not brushed her teeth afterwards, and had simply staggered to bed utterly exhausted. Could he smell it on her? Surely not. She couldn’t even taste it…

“The soup is very hot” Hannibal stated, his words drawing Bedelia from her thoughts immediately, and prompting her to meet his gaze one more. “Too hot to be consumed for several minutes” he added. Bedelia nodded absently at the remark. “I would like to examine you, very briefly, if you will permit me?” he asked gently. Bedelia felt a strong and sudden wave of panic, and she tensed visibly. “The examination will be brief and non-invasive” Hannibal explained, his voice low and soothing, as he adopted the tone he would use to speak to anxious patients when discussing their impending operations immediately prior to the surgery. “I would just like to check your heart-rate, blood pressure and temperature” he began tentatively, “and then examine your abdomen, if you will permit me” he added softly.

Bedelia stared at Hannibal for a few moments as she considered his request, her mind racing. She found herself feeling incredibly anxious at the prospect of being examined, and she could not immediately identify the reason for it. Perhaps it was because she had experienced so many examinations of her body in the past couple of weeks, by Hannibal and her doctor, that she was beginning to feel more like a test subject than a human being. Or was it the idea of Hannibal’s hands upon her that caused her to feel so uneasy? After spending the past two weeks ensuring his hands did not go anywhere near her abdomen for fear of what he would immediately discover, the prospect of him touching her there now still felt new and potentially dangerous. And yet, that was not the reason for her concern.

Despite her initial confusion, after just a few moments she found herself realising exactly what it was she feared, which came to her in a startling revelation.

She was scared Hannibal might find that there was something wrong with the baby.

Swallowing hard and suppressing her anxiety, she inhaled deeply and met Hannibal’s eyes, as he watched her with a patient expression. She swallowed hard and nodded.

“Yes, of course” she responded, her voice quieter than before and less confident than she had intended.

Hannibal held Bedelia’s gaze for several moments, and she felt her heart begin to race.

“If you feel uncomfortable at any time, or if you would like me to stop, tell me” Hannibal instructed. Bedelia swallowed once more and nodded in agreement, staring absently at the edge of the bed as he produced his medical bag from the other side of the bedside table.

Hannibal proceeded to take Bedelia’s blood pressure, temperature and listen to her heart, and she felt herself start to relax as he removed the chest-piece of the stethoscope from her warm skin.

“Your heart-rate is fine, as is your temperature” Hannibal advised, as he placed the stethoscope back into his medical bag and turned towards Bedelia, meeting her intelligent eyes as he spoke. “But your blood-pressure is lower than I would like” he advised gently. “I suspect you might be anaemic” he explained. Bedelia swallowed hard and tried to remind herself that it was perfectly normal for women to develop anaemia during pregnancy, and it was something that could be monitored and managed without serious issue. But given the fact that this was already a high risk pregnancy, an additional complication such as this made everything even more worrying and uncertain than it already was. “Have you been feeling dizzy, light-headed or tired?” Hannibal asked, drawing Bedelia from her thoughts. She swallowed thickly and felt her cheeks flush. She nodded in response.

  
“Yes” she responded, her voice calm but restrained. Hannibal nodded gently in acknowledgement.

“As your diet does not include red meat, I will introduce other sources of iron into your meals” he explained. “I would also suggest that you start taking iron supplements and folic acid” he continued, his voice confident but kind. Bedelia blinked and nodded in response.

“Yes, of course” she responded quietly, her eyes slightly glazed.

Hannibal considered her for a moment, before reaching across and placing his hand gently over her clasped ones, which were resting in her lap. She looked up at him with bright eyes.

  
“As you’re aware, it’s perfectly normal for pregnant women to develop anaemia” Hannibal began gently. “And between us, it is certainly something we can manage” he reassured her. “I’ll have the iron tablets and folic acid by the morning” he advised. Bedelia nodded in response.

“Thank you” she replied sincerely. Hannibal nodded.

“Of course” he returned, stroking his thumb comfortingly across her entwined fingers. He waited for a few moments until Bedelia seemed a little less distracted. “Would you permit me to examine your abdomen?” he asked gently.

Bedelia’s stomach tightened and Hannibal felt her tense beneath his touch, despite her attempts to conceal her anxiety.

“It will just take a minute or so, and I will be very gentle” he soothed. “I just want to make sure that everything is alright with the baby.”

_Baby_ , Bedelia thought. _Oh, my god._

“Yes” Bedelia responded, somewhat breathlessly, as she tried to suppress the strong emotions which hearing that word fall from Hannibal’s lips evoked. “Yes, of course” she added.

Hannibal watched Bedelia for a few moments, and recognised the concern and anxiety she was clearly trying to conceal.

“I will be as quick as I can, and if you feel uncomfortable at any time I will stop” Hannibal assured her. She nodded in understanding and forced a small smile. Hannibal gave her a few moments to gather her thoughts. “When you’re ready, please ease yourself slightly further down the bed, lie back against the pillows and try to relax” he said kindly.

Bedelia did as instructed and eased herself down the bed, before laying back against the pillows and desperately trying to relax, as Hannibal drew back the covers. She instinctively placed her arms around her abdomen and then removed them almost immediately, resting them by her sides somewhat awkwardly. For some reason, she felt she was in a rather odd position, and her uncertainty as to what to do with her hands confused her. She captured a handful of fabric from the duvet and stared up towards the ceiling. She felt Hannibal’s weight on the bed beside her as he sat on the edge, and her heart began to race.

“I’m just going to lift your jumper and examine your abdomen” he explained gently.

Bedelia nodded in acknowledgement and inhaled sharply, as she continued to gaze up at the ceiling with unblinking eyes, as she found herself torn between wondering why she felt so anxious and self-conscious, and not wanting to think about it at all. She quickly settled upon the latter.

A few moments later, Bedelia felt Hannibal slowly draw the material of her light pink jumper up her body and over her abdomen, exposing her belly. He hesitated for a moment and she looked down towards him, and found herself quite struck by his expression.

Her rounded belly, which she was quite confident was growing by the day, had been most uncooperative when she had been trying to put her black leggings on earlier that day. She had therefore decided to pull the leggings up over her belly, and was pleasantly surprised to find that they were a snug yet comfortable fit. The top of her leggings rested at the top of the curve of her belly, and it was this that had interested Hannibal. His expression was one of interest and amusement, and Bedelia found herself struck by the genuine look of warmth in his eyes, as he gently pulled her leggings down over her belly to expose her bare skin. The sensation of cool air upon her exposed belly caused Bedelia’s anxiety to increase, and she forcefully suppressed it, returning her gaze to the ceiling once more as Hannibal looked up towards her.

Remembering his assurance to Bedelia that his examination would be timely, Hannibal reluctantly suppressed his internal musings and made a start. He placed his hands slowly upon her belly and applied gentle pressure, palpating her abdomen just as he had done the previous night. He noticed Bedelia grip the bedsheets she was holding tighter, and he looked up towards her face. Her expression was unreadable, but it looked as though she was holding her breath. The fact that she seemed rather reluctant to look down towards her belly was curious, but Hannibal immediately decided he would give this further thought at a later date, as it was quite clear that Bedelia was becoming increasingly anxious, despite her attempts to hide it.

Knowing that she would simply assure him she was fine if he asked her, Hannibal returned his attentions to the examination, which he quickly completed. He drew Bedelia’s leggings neatly up over her rounded belly and drew her jumper down over it, much to her evident relief.

Bedelia pushed herself up into a sitting position once more, and Hannibal watched as her left hand drifted instinctively to the base of her belly, cradling it in a protective manner which caused the fabric of her jumper to cling to her and highlight her rounded form. Hannibal noted that Bedelia seemed completely unaware of the action.

“Everything appears to be fine” Hannibal assured her with a small smile. She met his gaze and appeared to relax visibly. “I’ll monitor your heart rate and blood pressure over the weekend” he explained.

  
“Yes, of course. Thank you” Bedelia responded, her voice quieter than usual, but polite and sincere. Hannibal nodded.

  
“I’ve brought you the book you were reading” he advised, prompting Bedelia to turn towards the table, where her much-loved copy of _To Kill A Mockingbird_ was resting, in front of the untouched plate of lemon muffins and a glass jug filled with water, ice and lemon. Bedelia stared at the book for a moment. In her haste to leave, she had quite forgotten about it, yet it was one of her most treasured possessions. It had been a gift from her father, who had been a prominent attorney, who died when she was only thirteen. “You left it in my study” he explained, as though hearing her private thoughts.

“Thank you” Bedelia responded gratefully, trying to suppress the sudden wave of sadness that thoughts of her father tended to evoke. She swallowed hard and turned her attentions back towards Hannibal.

“Please try to eat and drink as much as you feel able to” Hannibal gently encouraged. Bedelia’s intelligent eyes shone and she listened intently. “If there is something else you would like I will prepare it for you” he stated kindly. Bedelia’s eyes softened, and a small smile played upon her lips. Though, at present, she couldn’t imagine anything she wanted to eat more than that delicious soup. “I’ll be back in an hour to collect the tray and to check on you” he advised. “I will not examine you if you are asleep” he assured her, as though pre-empting the concern. “Try to get some rest.”

“I will” Bedelia assured him. “Thank you, Hannibal” she added sincerely. Hannibal held her gaze and nodded.

“I will be in the study if you need me” he responded, before rising from the bed and making his way towards the door, and closing it with a quiet click behind him.

Bedelia found herself wishing he would stay, though understanding perfectly why he would not; he wished to provide her with privacy and an opportunity to think about what she wanted to do. She also suspected he believed she would be calmer and less stressed if he was not constantly attending her, though he was far too polite and proud to admit to such a reason. She was considering this very thought when she noticed her left hand cradling her belly.

Bedelia stared at her belly, which appeared quite apparent now, due to the fact that she was drawing the fabric of her jumper across her body as she subconsciously cradled her rounded form. Bedelia splayed her fingers out and stroked her belly, with a mixture of curiosity and tenderness, and she felt a smile blossom on her lips.

She remained perfectly still for a couple of minutes, until the rather pressing matter of her hunger made itself known to her, and demanded to be acknowledged and actioned without delay. And so, acceding to her body’s demands, Bedelia lifted the silver salver onto her lap and began to eat.

The delicious homemade soup was hot and soothing, and exactly what she wanted. Although she had intended on eating slowly, she found that she could not, and she quickly consumed the entire bowl of soup, as well as the majority of the very generous amount of bread which Hannibal had provided. She then poured herself a large glass of water and took several small sips, before realising the extent of her thirst and consuming the majority of that too.

Feeling sleepy and sated, Bedelia reached for her book and lay on her side, opening it to the beginning of the third chapter where her bookmark stood guard, and began to read.

She was asleep before she reached the end of the page.

After falling asleep shortly after two o’clock, Bedelia remained in a deep and dreamless sleep for the majority of the afternoon, stirring only slightly as Hannibal left the room after his most recent check on her. Her body seemed to crave sleep, and she was powerless to resist, and willingly surrendered herself to its firm hold.

However, Bedelia’s sleep was cruelly interrupted by a familiar sensation which tore her from her much-needed restorative slumber.

Bedelia sat up abruptly in bed, her right hand cradling her belly as the painfully familiar sensation of strong abdominal cramping caused her to wake almost immediately. Bedelia closed her eyes and gasped breathlessly, gritting her teeth as she attempted to breathe through the cramping, which was more painful and intense than she had experienced before. She felt her heart begin to race and panic overcome her, as another most unwelcome sensation made itself known to her. Bedelia’s eyes snapped open and promptly filled with tears.

Swallowing hard, Bedelia pushed the duvet off herself and slowly eased herself off the bed, not daring to look back, as she knew perfectly well what she would see.

Bedelia walked slowly across the bedroom on unsteady legs, feeling her body begin to tremble as the cramping intensified, and other symptoms became more apparent. Her expression crumpled and she braced herself against the door with her left hand, before blinking back her tears and letting out a deep breath. She then opened the bedroom and made her way slowly and mechanically across the apartment, her right hand cradling her belly as she grit her teeth against the intense cramping sensation. The pain was so strong that she had to stop several times, despite her desperate attempts to continue forward, acting on instinct, desperation and fear.

Bedelia ignored the increasing sensation of dizziness and nausea, which the intensity of the cramping overrode almost completely in any event, as she made her way towards the sound of movement in the kitchen.

As she reached the kitchen door and stepped over the threshold she caught sight of Hannibal, who was dicing kale with an expert hand on a marble chopping board. The sight of him caused the tears she had battled to suppress to burn in her eyes, just as another wave of intense cramping struck her, rendering her almost breathless.

“Hannibal” Bedelia said, in as confident a voice as she could muster, which sounded shaky and hollow. Hannibal looked up immediately, his expression of surprise quickly turning to one of focus and concern, as he observed her pallor, her stance, and the terrified look in her eyes. “I’m bleeding.”


	38. Chapter 38

_“Hannibal, I’m bleeding.”_

Hannibal stared at Bedelia as she uttered those terrifying words, the latter of which cut through him sharper than the knife he was holding had cut through the helpless kale upon the chopping board.

In the first few moments which followed Bedelia’s announcement, Hannibal found himself considering her frightened eyes, her hollow, mechanical tone, and the tight set of her jaw as she tried desperately not to cry. She was leaning forward slightly and cradling her rounded belly with her right hand, whilst holding onto the doorframe to steady herself. It was quite clear she was in pain.

Hannibal quickly put down the knife and walked purposefully across the room, reaching Bedelia in just a few strides. His expression was unreadable, as he battled to suppress the rising feelings of concern and unease as he considered her words, her condition and the implications of both. Bedelia felt Hannibal’s right hand on her hip as his left gently held her upper arm, and her breath hitched as she fought not to cry.

“It’s alright” Hannibal assured her, his voice calm and measured, and so certain that she found herself almost believing him. Almost. “Can you walk?” he asked gently.

Bedelia could not quite bring herself to meet his gaze, but she nodded a shaky affirmation in response. Before Hannibal could reply, Bedelia was struck with another strong wave of intense cramping pain, which reminded her strongly of the first time she had found herself bleeding. But as she clutched her belly and let out a breathless gasp, she was immediately reminded that this time she was not alone.

Hannibal quickly stepped forward, standing even closer to Bedelia, with his right hand on her lower back for support. He reached for the hand which was clutching her belly and covered it with his own, as he gently encouraged Bedelia to lean against him.

“Breathe, Bedelia. That’s it” Hannibal encouraged, his words reaching her through her through her pain-induced haze, as she shut her eyes and leaned against his chest. Hannibal felt her trembling left hand clutch at the back of his waistcoat as she tried to steady herself, as her breathing gradually began to stabilise. “That’s it” he soothed.

After almost a minute, Bedelia slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him instinctively, her eyes meeting his as she did so. Even whilst in her frightened and pained state she identified genuine concern and attentiveness in his gaze. She opened her mouth to speak but found herself incapable of doing so, closing her mouth as she felt a hot tear burn a cruel line down her cheek. Hannibal gently wiped it away and rubbed her lower back soothingly.

“Do you think you can make it back to the bedroom?” Hannibal asked softly, his voice quiet and gentle. Bedelia nodded in response, despite not really being sure of the answer. Hannibal nodded too. “When you’re ready, Bedelia. Slowly” he encouraged. Bedelia sniffed quietly and nodded, before turning on the spot and stepping out of the kitchen.

Hannibal walked beside Bedelia, with one arm wrapped around her as his free hand rested over hers, which was planted firmly on her belly. Bedelia walked in a slow and careful manner whilst leaning slightly forward, a testament to the pain which she was clearly trying to conceal. Although he reminded her a couple of times to walk a little slower, he found himself becoming increasingly desperate to examine her in order to identify both the extent of the bleeding and its cause. AS she was wearing black leggings he could not tell precisely how much blood she had lost, but considering the fact she was looking startlingly pale and he could taste the heavy, metallic odour in the air, he suspected it was fairly considerable. Bedelia’s pregnancy was incredibly high-risk and she had already experienced complications, and despite his best attempts to suppress his paternal concern, his medical mind forced him to consider it with a cruelly painful clarity: it was very likely that Bedelia was miscarrying their child. And, considering the mechanical manner in which she was walking, and the glassy, terrified look in her eyes, he realised that she suspected this too.

As they reached his bedroom Hannibal pushed the slightly ajar door open and guided Bedelia inside, pausing with confusion as she suddenly stopped. He followed her line of gaze directly ahead, and found himself staring at a large pool of bright-red blood which stained the centre third of the mattress and bedsheet. He estimated that Bedelia had lost at least half a pint of blood, and he swallowed hard, forcefully suppressing the uncomfortable feeling of anxiety which turned his stomach, a sensation he had only experienced a handful of times in his life.

Hannibal reluctantly removed his hands from Bedelia and walked quickly towards the bed, turning the duvet cover over so it concealed the bloodstain beneath, before turning back towards her. As he met her gaze he was struck by the lost, frightened look in her haunted eyes. It was a look not unlike that he had seen in car-crash victims, or victims of violent offences, who were currently in shock.

“Bedelia” Hannibal said, his voice firm but kindly, as he closed the distance between them. “Bedelia” he repeated, slightly more gently this time. Bedelia blinked herself out of her stupor and stared up at him, her right hand cradling her belly instinctively. “Come” he instructed, offering her a small smile which it pained him to muster.

Bedelia blinked, as though in a trance, and followed him with wordless obedience. She took his hand and allowed him to assist her onto the bed, her right hand not leaving her belly. After getting Bedelia settled, Hannibal removed his medical bag from the other side of the bedside table and began to search through it.

Despite the comfort of the bed, Bedelia’s belly continued to ache and she was confident that she was still bleeding, and sitting here in this position in that moment felt very, very final. She inhaled a shaken breath and felt her eyes fill with tears, which she blinked back furiously. As she turned towards Hannibal, she watched him putting on a pair of blue surgical gloves, and the little resolve she had shattered as he stepped towards her and met her gaze. Hot tears spilled treacherously down her cheeks and she began to shake her head. She didn’t want him to tell her what she already knew to be true. Not now. Not yet.

“No” she said, her voice heavy with emotion, as her bottom lip trembled. “No, Hannibal. N-no-”

Hannibal watched Bedelia closely and found his throat become tighter at the pain in her eyes and the pitch of her voice. He understand exactly what she was objecting to, and he perched on the bed beside her and held her gaze, as she stared at him warily, like an injured animal staring fearfully at an unfamiliar vet.

“It’s alright” Hannibal assured her, his voice adopting a husky tone which somewhat surprised him. He held her gaze and tried to speak in as calm and clear a manner as he could, in the hopes that it would comfort her. “You have lost a considerable amount of blood, and I need to examine you to find out why” he explained gently. Bedelia inhaled sharply and blinked back more tears.

“We both know why” she said quietly, her words breathless and almost whispered.

“Not necessarily” Hannibal countered, as he carefully selected his next words, not wishing to give her false hope. “I need to examine you, Bedelia” he explained, his voice kind but firm, as he looked upon her with gentle eyes. “Whatever is happening, you need medical attention” he reminded her tentatively. “Will you let me help you, Bedelia?” he asked.

Amidst her pain and fear and confusion, Bedelia suddenly found herself transported back to her ensuite bathroom at her house in Virginia, where Hannibal Lecter had told her he would help her before if she asked him. It was on an occasion marked by death then too, when she had also been covered in a considerable amount of blood. In that moment she knew she had to accept his assistance now just as she had back then. For a moment she wondered whether that was what he had intended. As she returned to the present and considered his question, she found herself wondering whether she should decline his offer and implore him to take her to the hospital. But her cruel mind quickly reminded her that there would be nothing they could do; the pregnancy was at far too early a stage for the baby to be saved, even if it were still there to be saved, which she doubted. Besides, Hannibal had almost certainly already considered this as a potential option too, and the fact he wanted to examine her demonstrated that he had already dismissed it. And so, in that moment, so did she.

Bedelia nodded mechanically in response and Hannibal took her hand, squeezing it reassuringly, as he held her gaze with a comforting expression. Bedelia squeezed Hannibal’s hand weakly and then released it as he rose to his feet, turning her gaze away from him and staring up at the ceiling, as she desperately tried to calm herself. But the furious, frightening and confused thoughts racing through her mind made doing so impossible, and so she closed her eyes in an unwilling surrender.

Hannibal’s eyes drifted sadly down Bedelia’s body, from her closed eyes as she desperately tried to compose herself, to the tender hand cradling her belly in a hopeful and protective manner which caused something deep inside him to ache almost painfully. Ignoring his feelings and forcing himself to concentrate on the matter at hand, Hannibal stepped closer to Bedelia and began.

Hannibal placed his hands at the hem of her oversized pink jumper and gently drew it up by several inches to reveal her upper thighs. He then hooked his fingers inside her leggings and drew them down, together with her underwear, dragging both garments down her legs and removing them from her body. Hannibal glanced down at her underwear, which he observed were saturated with fresh blood. He swallowed thickly and wrapped them up in the leggings, which were damp with a tell-tale sticky hot liquid, which came off red upon his gloves. He inhaled sharply and returned his attentions to Bedelia, who was now staring up at the ceiling with a look of weary detachment.

Hannibal turned back towards Bedelia and gently encouraged her to part her legs, which she did biddably, as he drew her jumper up further still. He held it up to conceal the sight which he knew would upset her further, and he felt the weight of her gaze upon him as he did so. However, Hannibal’s attentions were focused upon her blood-stained inner thighs, the top six inches of which were stained with fresh blood.

The blood was not dark, nor were there clots of blood or material which would immediately confirm a miscarriage, which was a relief. The sonogram he had seen confirmed that the pregnancy was not ectopic, which ruled out another possibility. However, there were many others, each more unthinkable than their predecessor; and to determine exactly what was happening, he would need Bedelia’s help.

Gently drawing the jumper down to cover her, Hannibal looked up at Bedelia, who met his gaze with a wary, frightened expression.

“Can you tell me where the pain is?” Hannibal asked gently. Bedelia’s eyelids flickered and she nodded, splaying her fingers out and stroking the length of the base of her rounded belly. Hannibal stared at the spot and nodded in acknowledgement. “How would you describe the pain?” he asked quietly. Bedelia swallowed hard and slowly parted her lips.

“Cramping” she said weakly, her voice quiet and somewhat distanced. “Bad cramping” she elaborated. Hannibal nodded in acknowledgement once again.

“Not contractions?” he asked. Bedelia blinked and shook her head immediately.

“No” she responded. Hannibal found himself feeling relieved, though he forced himself not to.

“Does your back hurt?” he asked. Again, Bedelia slowly shook her head. He let out a gentle breath. “Bedelia, I need to examine you more intimately” he explained delicately. Bedelia’s breath hitched and she felt her stomach drop. “I know you’re in pain, and I’m afraid it will be uncomfortable” he continued gently. “But I’m afraid it is entirely necessary” he advised.

Bedelia stared at Hannibal, who remained still and respectfully silent as she considered his words. She was sore and in pain and incredibly embarrassed, and the prospect of such an intimate examination being carried out by Hannibal brought tears to her eyes yet again. She was so tired of crying; she had probably cried more in the past month than she had in her entire life. The feelings of fear, uncertainty and vulnerability which this pregnancy evoked made her feel completely powerless and most unlike herself, like she was losing herself, day by day, piece by piece. And now her body was taking her baby from her too.

“Yes” Bedelia agreed quietly, knowing that Hannibal was right, it was necessary. Besides, she was only delaying the inevitable, and torturing herself even more. It was simply better to know, one way or another. Even though she knew what the verdict would be. And it hurt more than she imagined she had the capacity to feel hurt; and for some reason this surprised her.

Bedelia was drawn from her thoughts by Hannibal, who placed his strong hand delicately upon her left thigh, and stroked it comfortingly.

“If you could edge yourself down the bed by six inches or so, and then lie back and try to relax as much as possible” Hannibal instructed kindly. “I appreciate that will be difficult, but I will carry out the examination as quickly as I can” he assured her.

Bedelia nodded absently to his instructions and edged down the bed obediently, as she desperately tried to detach herself from this moment, these minutes. This time.

Inhaling sharply and then releasing a low, calming breath, Bedelia parted her legs as Hannibal encouraged, then lay back deep into the pillows, clutched fistfuls of the bedsheets, and stared up at the ceiling. The more she tried not to focus on the current situation, and to acknowledge what was happening, the harder she found it, and the more profoundly it struck her.

Her pregnancy had been unexpected but, whilst the prospect had utterly terrified her, she had recently found herself coming to accept it; indeed, there had been occasions where she had found herself almost embracing it. And as scary a prospect as that had been, this was even more terrifying yet; as was her realisation of just how desperately she did not want to lose this child. But her pregnancy was high risk, she had already suffered complications including bleeding on multiple occasions, and now it was happening again. It was quite clear that she could not carry this child to term, and losing it seemed inevitable. A miscarriage was often an act committed by the woman’s body when the foetus was not viable, due to some abnormality or imperfection which would mean it could not be carried to term, much less survive outside the womb. She had spent so many hours agonising over how the baby might be like Hannibal or herself, and how monstrous it would be; perhaps her body knew just how dangerous her child was, how incompatible with the world. A child borne of herself and Hannibal was apparently an abomination even to her own body, which was seeking to destroy it at every opportunity. And yet she loved it, desperately and completely, and she wanted it to live. Its existence evoked feelings in her that she did not believe herself capable of, and that in itself had given her hope for this child and for herself as a mother. But her body had cruelly extinguished that hope.

Bedelia felt tears burn in her eyes as she mourned the loss she had only just accepted, and was powerless to prevent. And yet, even now, she was subconsciously cradling her belly, clinging to a torturous glimmer of hope which she knew would soon he extinguished. Despite her initial reservations, and her profound concerns about all aspects of maternity, she was profoundly surprised by just how desperately she wanted this baby to live. She took in another deep breath, released it slowly, and then closed her eyes.

Bedelia’s attempts at calming herself were interrupted suddenly by profound discomfort arising from Hannibal’s examination. Whilst he was being very gentle, the examination itself was uncomfortable bordering on painful, and she found herself tensing and gasping in pain. She heard Hannibal’s voice speaking to her in a soft, soothing tone, but she could not quite understand what he was saying; she simply willed him to conclude the examination as quickly as possible. And, with great relief, he did.

As soon as Hannibal had finished his intimate examination, Bedelia opened her eyes and sat up against the pillows, pulling her jumper down instinctively to cover herself. As she did so, she caught sight of the crimson blood which stained her inner thighs, and she bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying. She heard Hannibal remove his latex gloves and glanced up just as he sat down beside her.

“I need to examine your abdomen” Hannibal explained. “It may be a little uncomfortable, but it is something I need to do” he added gently. Bedelia clutched her belly protectively, and Hannibal saw her grip tighten. “I’ll be very gentle, and very quick” he assured her. Bedelia’s eyes swam with tears and she nodded, removing a trembling hand from her belly and placing it down on the bed beside her.

Bedelia lay back once again, as biddably as a child, as she felt the now familiar sensation of her jumper being pulled up over her body, this time revealing her bare belly. Hannibal placed some material over her thighs to give her some dignity, which she was vaguely aware of and was grateful for. She resisted the temptation to reach down for her belly – a belly which she was now so certain was empty, barren – and instead grabbed fistfuls of the bedsheets as she willed Hannibal to be quick. It was only as she felt Hannibal pressing down on her belly – which was tender and sore – that she realised he had not told her of the outcome of her pelvic examination. She considered asking him, but realised it would only prolong this examination, so decided to remain silent. She was trying to lose herself in thoughts of nothing at all, when she was drawn sharply form her efforts by the sensation of cold metal upon her skin. She winced and opened her eyes, and looked down to find Hannibal pressing the chest piece of a stethoscope to her belly. Her heart ached at his hopeful thoroughness, for she knew he could hear nothing. Before she could speak, he removed it from her body and pulled her jumper down over her belly once more. Bedelia pushed herself up weakly into a sitting position, ignoring the strong wave of dizziness which struck her, and stared up at him with nervous expectancy, already knowing what he was going to say.

And yet, the words which fell from his lips did not echo those which had formed in her mind.

“The bleeding has stopped, and the cervix has not dilated. It is closed” Hannibal explained, speaking clearly and with conviction. It took the stunned Bedelia several moments to process what he was saying, and to translate it into something she did not believe could be possible. Something which Hannibal confirmed with his next words. “You have not miscarried” he assured her, a reassuring smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Bedelia’s breath caught in her throat, as a bubble of excitement and relief which rose within her. She stared at him with wide eyes of disbelief.

“Are you sure?” she asked uncertainly, his words not making sense to her. She had lost so much blood, yet again, and even now she was experiencing strong, cramping pains. The baby could not have survived this, surely? Not again. Not a child where so much was against its survival as to make its demise seem almost inevitable. Her body was taunting her, giving her the illusion of a child then taking it from her, or at least appearing to. It was cruel, and obscene. And torture.

“I am” Hannibal responded with conviction. “I listened to the heartbeat” he added gently. Bedelia’s eyes shone with tears and her breath hitched. “It is very strong” he informed her.

Bedelia’s lips parted, and yet all the words which formed in her mind died there, and refused to fall from her lips. The hope which she had felt moments ago turned to dread, and fresh ears burned in her eyes. Hannibal saw the worry and disbelief in her eyes and took her hand gently in his own.

“Would you like to listen to the heartbeat?” Hannibal offered kindly.

Bedelia’s bottom lip trembled and hot tears spilled down her cheeks. She shook her head, but could not bring herself to vocally express her refusal. The notion of listening to the strong-beating heart of her baby, which her body was clearly incapable of carrying to term, seemed cruel. It was cruel. It was _unbearable._ From the multiple medical issues she had experienced in the past few weeks it was quite clear that her body had no intention of allowing her to carry this child to term; instead, it kept taking her to the precipice of a miscarriage, and then cruelly bringing her back into a world of uncertainty. The fact that she had not miscarried this time had at first, come as a relief, but it was soon followed by the knowledge that the eventually loss of this child was inevitable; her body and her circumstances would simply not allow it to survive. She was a fool to have even allowed herself to consider the possibility of such a high-risk pregnancy involving the child of herself and Hannibal Lecter leading to the safe delivery of a healthy infant; and she was even more foolish to allow herself to hope that it would. Despite never having felt maternal or experienced even the slightest desire to have a child, she had wanted this baby, and had grown very attached to an unborn child which seemed destined not to exist. The prospect of now losing this child hurt deeply; it _hurt_ , more than anything she had experienced before. As did the knowledge that this loss – and it _would_ be a loss, even if not just now – was partly her fault.

The pregnancy was high-risk to begin with, and her actions since she had discovered it put the baby in even more danger than her body already had simply by its existence. She had concealed her pregnancy from Hannibal, causing profound stress which would have unquestionably harmed the baby; she had rushed out of the hospital following her medical appointment and had ignored the subsequent calls of her doctor; she had had sex with Hannibal two nights ago, within just weeks of having experienced severe bleeding, and then – if that were not already enough – she had worn a body-sculpting corset whilst in the fourth month of her pregnancy. Bedelia closed her eyes and felt shame burn her cheeks; she could not simply blame her body for this inevitable loss. It was her fault too.

“Tell me what you’re thinking” came the calm yet curious voice of Hannibal Lecter, which drew her sharply back from the precipice of this heart-wrenching despair.

Bedelia opened her eyes slowly and found herself feeling overwhelmed with sadness, her entire mind and body turning slowly numb, and then to ice. This was a battle she could fight, but one that she would never win; because nature would, every time. And the child which was, for now, alive inside her, would not be for much longer. Bedelia swallowed hard and removed her hand from her belly, despite her instincts decrying the action. Hannibal’s eyes followed the movement, before looking up at her with a look of barely-concealed confusion and curiosity.

“I think it’s time I return to my own room” Bedelia responded, her voice low and mechanical, and soundly incredibly unlike her own.

Before the stunned Hannibal could respond, Bedelia eased herself off the bed and rose to her feet, clutching the edge of the bedside table to steady herself as a strong wave of dizziness threatened to overcome her. Hannibal was at her side in less than a moment, with one hand on her lower back as his other one searched for her free hand. Their fingers grazed and she withdrew a trembling hand. Hannibal tried to ignore the sharp pang of hurt, as he looked upon her with confusion.

“Bedelia, you need to rest-”

“I’m fine, Hannibal” she responded, her tone slightly harsher than she had intended, and heavy with emotion. She looked up at him with glazed eyes and a steely expression. “I’m fine” she added numbly, before turning away from him and walking slowly out of the room.

Hannibal took a few tentative steps towards Bedelia and then paused, finding himself fighting his instinct to be with her with his knowledge that she needed some time alone, as she continued to walk slowly forward before disappearing completely from his sight.


	39. Chapter 39

Bedelia walked slowly out of the room in a daze of pain and devastation, her steps measured and almost mechanical, the physical pain and discomfort she was experiencing a complete contrast to the emotional numbness which afflicted her.

Bedelia felt dizzy and very unsteady on her feet as she walked, battling both her own physical feeling of weakness and her instinctive desire not to leave Hannibal’s room, or Hannibal himself. Although she was reluctant to admit it at present, his confident and assured demeanour provided her with comfort and consolation which she so desperately needed; but it also provided her with hope, which was little more than a frail cruelty, and so she felt she had no choice but to reject it completely.

Besides, as well as being in pain and a shock-like state, she is also afraid, and her natural instinct when experiencing such a weak emotion is to shut herself off completely, and so she wants to be alone.

It is with a feeling of numb relief that Bedelia reaches her bedroom, steps over the threshold and then closes the door behind her with an air of finality. She felt numb, shaken, vulnerable and weak, to a degree she had never experienced before, and never believed herself capable of feeling. Which, in itself, was utterly terrifying.

Despite the fleeting comfort at finally being alone, Bedelia’s minor reprieve was very short-lived, and she was struck almost immediately by an awareness of how exposed she felt, both physically and emotionally. She could still feel the ghost of Hannibal’s tender touches from the various examinations he performed, the gentle feeling of his hands upon her so fresh in her memory that she almost felt his gloved hands against her bare skin. Despite the clinical and invasive nature of the examinations, Hannibal’s touch had never been cold or impersonal, and he had treated her with kindness and great care. She leaned against the door and closed her eyes, ignored a rising feeling of uncharacteristic embarrassment, and trying desperately not to cry.

A shiver ran down Bedelia’s spine, and she trembled, wrapping her arms weakly around herself in an instinctive manner. She then looked down upon her bare legs, which were slender and pale, almost ghostly white; with the exception of the bright red blood which tinged her inner thighs, the sight of which was just visible below the hemline of her light pink jumper.

Averting her gaze immediately from her body, and the evidence of what she felt confident was occurring within, Bedelia swallowed thickly and walked mechanically towards the bathroom, her steps less hesitant and more assured than they had been before. But her belly still ached, her head was beginning to spin, and she trembled as though she were cold, despite her skin being warm to the touch.

As Bedelia made her way towards her bathroom, she tried to distance herself from thoughts of her pregnancy and of Hannibal, knowing with a frightening degree of certainty that neither would be in her life for much longer. The memory of Hannibal’s hands upon her skin, her inner thighs and then her belly, returned to her full force, and almost stopped her still in her step. Even whilst examining her he had been tender, his touch as gentle and as tentative as it was when they had made love; and yet she felt an odd combination of craving it once more and rejecting it completely. She was tired of being examined, her body touched and inspected and analysed, as though it were no longer hers at all, but someone else’s; though, perhaps, in a way it was. For now, at least, but not for long; because there was no assistance Hannibal could provide, no procedure he could perform, and no drug he could prescribe that would save their baby. A tiny, innocent, blank-slate of a human being, which had somehow been conceived by monstrous people undertaking monstrous acts, which were as incompatible with the world as the innocence of the child they created was as incompatible with them and the lives they led. It was hardly any wonder that her body – or, rather, nature – was seeking to correct this most unnatural imbalance. For although the bleeding had stopped and Hannibal had found a heartbeat which was strong, Bedelia knew that it would not be for long. And her body appeared to be taking great, torturous pleasure in reminding her of this fact.

Swallowing thickly, Bedelia blinked back the tears which stung in her eyes as she stepped into the bathroom, and closed the door on both her bedroom and her condition. She had always been excellent at compartmentalising, and was trying to utilise this most helpful skill in detaching herself from the prospect of her pregnancy; but it was proving incredibly difficult, indeed it was too much for her to bear, especially given her current state. She really was not feeling very well, and her body and her resolve were both incredibly weak. Indeed, it took everything she had to keep her hands away from her belly, where her instincts were dictating that they wished to be, both to ease her pain and to provide her with the comfort she knew she felt at the sensation of her strong, rounded belly beneath her palm. But Bedelia knew that she did not deserve either, and even if she did, it was in vain, and utterly meaningless.

 _I can’t protect this baby_ , her cruel mind taunted her, in one of her few moments of clarity. _I can’t even carry it to term_.

Bedelia’s breathing deepened and her eyes filled with tears once more, as she walked mechanically across the room, her feet carrying her instinctively towards the bathtub.

After lifting a clean flannel off the edge of the sink, Bedelia slowly lowered herself onto the edge of the bathtub, planting her feet on the inside of it and turning on the hot tap. She tried to ignore the soreness and discomfort she was experiencing due to her sitting position, as she drew the bottom of her jumper up over her thighs, and held the flannel under the tap. She tried to clean herself without looking, staring defiantly away from her legs and at the wall opposite her, as she cleansed herself of the evidence of her body’s attempts at destruction. After a minute or so she forced herself to look down, and was relieved to find that she had cleaned herself completely, the only evidence of what had happened being the flannel in her hand, which was stained the tell-tale colour, and dropping light-red droplets of blood into the tub below. Bedelia swallowed hard and dropped the flannel into the bin beside the sink, before turning herself around and rising slowly to her feet, closing her eyes and pointedly ignoring the strong wave of dizziness which afflicted her as she rose.

Bedelia took a few unsteady steps towards the sink and held onto the edge, lowering her eyes from the mirror before her, which she refused to look at. She reached for the nearest hand-towel and quickly dried her inner thighs, before dropping it into the washing basket, closely followed by the light pink jumper she was wearing, which she pulled over her head and dropped unceremoniously on top of the towel. Ignoring the sudden chill she felt, Bedelia removed her bra and surrendered it too, before walking wearily towards the bathroom door.

Bedelia removed a royal blue silk robe from the back of the door and adorned it, tying it loosely about her waist, as she stared blankly ahead with unblinking eyes. Unlike the times she had changed or undressed most recently, she did not permit herself to glance down at her belly and consider her changing form; instead, she purposefully avoided doing just that, ignoring both her instinct to do so and the pain that such avoidance caused. Her stomach was hurting terribly, as waves of painful menstrual-like cramps spread across her lower belly and towards her back, as her body continued to torment her with a painful reminder of her imminent loss.

Ignoring a strong wave of sadness which threatened to overcome her completely, Bedelia let out a deep breath and opened the bathroom door, stepping back into her bedroom and walking towards her chest of drawers, her steps faster than her body could bear.

Wincing slightly in discomfort, Bedelia placed her hands upon the cool walnut exterior of the chest of drawers, closing her eyes as she permitted herself a moment to steady herself and recover from her dizziness, before opening the nearest drawer.

Bedelia removed the first nightdress she touched, an off-white silk garment with delicate embroidery about the modest neckline, and placed it over a nearby chair. She then opened a second drawer and removed a pair of underwear, again the first she touched, which she quickly adorned.

She then walked numbly towards her dressing table, opening the right-hand drawer and reaching to the back, where she was relieved to find a packet of sanitary towels. She removed one, opened the small packet which contained it, and placed it in her underwear whilst trying not to think about it at all. As tears began to burn in her eyes she bit the corner of her mouth, then blinked them back defiantly. She then steadied herself on the chair, allowing herself a few moments to recover herself, before removing her robe and adorning the nightdress. The material was cool and unrestricting against her skin, though it provided her with little comfort against the persistent ache and rhythmic cramping which afflicted her. Her hand strayed instinctively towards her belly but she recalled it most sharply, distracting herself and her treacherous extremities by pulling her royal blue silk robe over her arms and securing it about her waist once more, even looser than it had been before. Though it provided her with little comfort and less relief.

Bedelia tucked a lock of hair behind her right ear and walked slowly towards her bed, her legs carrying her towards it in her trance-like state, as she desperately tried to think of nothing at all.

As she pulled back the covers and got inside, the coldness and emptiness of the bed and the room seemed to taunt her, acting as a cruel reminder of the uninhabited barrenness which her own body was soon destined to experience. She turned on the bedside light beside her, which cast odd shadows across the room amidst its warm yellow glow, as she leaned back against the pillows and blinked languidly. Her right hand once more drifted instinctively towards her belly, but she stilled its motions as soon as she became aware of them, and instead drew the duvet up over her body to conceal her belly completely, before resting her arms on the bed beside her, in a manner which felt odd and unnatural.

Bedelia then closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, which she released slowly, clutching the bedding within her palms as she attempted to calm herself. She then opened her eyes once more, and took in the cold and empty feeling of the room, which perfectly matched her mood and her future.

She then clamped her hand over her face and immediately burst into tears.

After watching after Bedelia until she had walked out of sight, Hannibal remained fixed to the spot for some time, as his usually clear and analytical mind attempted to make sense of what had just happening, and what was still to come.

As he attempted to ignore his own uncharacteristic feelings of fear and deep unease which was bordering on anxiety, Hannibal found himself recalling with perfect clarity the events of the past ten minutes and, in particular, his examination of Bedelia.

Having conducted both an intimate and an abdominal examination, Hannibal recalled the profound sense of relief he experienced when listening to the strong-beating heart of their resilient unborn child. The memory of the metronome of their child’s heartbeat was almost as strong in his memory as Bedelia’s response when he had revealed its presence, thus confirming that their baby was alive. The news was clearly unanticipated, and she had understandably feared a miscarriage; he remembered the look of profound relief in her eyes and expression, and how painfully that then changed to sadness and despair, and in that instant Hannibal knew why.

Bedelia’s devastation was not due to the fact that their baby was alive, but because she feared it would not be for much longer. Grief gave the bearer an unmistakable look of devastation and despair, and Bedelia had worn that expression the moment she stepped into the kitchen, but it intensified tenfold upon his revelation about their child’s heartbeat. Hannibal suspected that Bedelia had entered a stage of anticipated grief the moment she awoke and discovered she was bleeding; she had clearly been shocked to be told that she had not miscarried, and that their child was alive. He remembered how her eyes became glassy and her bottom lip trembled as soon as he asked if she wanted to listen to the heartbeat; every fibre of her being had screamed yes, but she had retreated into herself almost immediately, her emotional armour forming its own Person Suit before his eyes, which she wore as protection against the grief and despair which she clearly felt was inevitable. Bedelia was grieving the loss of a life she felt certain was dying inside her, whilst battling the knowledge that there was nothing she could do to protect it. And although he was loathe to admit it, Hannibal shared her feelings of powerlessness.

As Hannibal considered his brief exchange with Bedelia, he conceded that she clearly wished to be left alone to process what was happening, and what she felt confident was going to happen next. Whilst Hannibal the psychiatrist understood and respected her decision, it was something that Hannibal – as her lover and the father to this child – was struggling with considerably; and Hannibal the doctor was equally concerned that she should not be left alone.

Whilst this dilemma was playing itself out in Hannibal’s mind, and he was considering the arguments and implications which presented themselves to each of his three personas, he listened out for Bedelia, whose movements his acute hearing detected even through the thick stone walls. The sounds of opening and closing of doors, footsteps and running water provided him with some comfort, though very little; and considerably less than he would experience if he were by her side, where he felt he should be, both personally and professionally. But it was her decision, and he was determined to accept it. Within reason of course, and providing it did not compromise her health or the health of their unborn child.

And so, whilst feeling conflicted between respecting Bedelia’s decision and his desires as her lover and duties as her doctor, Hannibal decided he would wait ten minutes and then attend to her very briefly, just to check she was alright, and then return to respecting her wishes once he had determined that she was.

Satisfied with this course of action, and keen to distract himself from the unfamiliar sensation of deep unease and an uncomfortable tightening in the pit of his stomach, Hannibal busied himself for the next ten minutes by tidying the bedroom, and removing all signs of the recent medical emergency.

In his usual prompt and fastidious manner, Hannibal disposed of his stained gloves and Bedelia’s bloodied garments in the bathroom bin, before stripping the bed completely and replacing the sheets with fresh linen. After tending to the bed, Hannibal put away his medical instruments in his leather bag and returned it to its position by the side of the left-hand bedside table, the contents of which he also tidied. As Hannibal glanced around the room with a vague air of satisfaction, he found that he was provided with far less pleasure at the knowledge of having restored the room to order than he normally would; and he felt Bedelia’s absence with such strength that it took him quite off-guard.

In order to distract himself further, Hannibal then carried the bloodied bedsheets out of the bedroom and walked purposefully through the apartment, dumping them effortlessly into the fireplace and setting them alight, bright orange light dancing in his eyes as they burned.

A quick glance towards the clock on the mantelpiece confirmed that it had indeed been ten minutes since Bedelia had left his bedroom and returned to her own, and Hannibal found himself feeling uncharacteristically anxious, and most keen to attend to her. However, not wishing to disrespect her wishes or undermine them in any way, he acknowledged that he would need a reason to interrupt her solitude; and it was with great relief that he had one which was sincere.

And so, a few minutes later, with a tray in his hands and a most distracting ache deep in the pit of his stomach, Hannibal walked slowly towards Bedelia’s bedroom door, where he hesitated for only a moment. After the briefest of considerations, Hannibal held the tray against his chest and freed his right hand to deliver three polite knocks, which he was relieved to find received an answer.

“Yes?” came the voice of Bedelia, whose tone was one of attempted confidence, betrayed by clear tiredness and emotion. The discomfort in the pit of Hannibal’s stomach turned into a knot, and promptly tightened.

“May I come in?” Hannibal asked respectfully, ignoring the tightening knot. There was a pause for only the briefest of moments.

“You may” Bedelia responded, her voice clearer and more controlled than before, though with a wary and somewhat hesitant undertone. Hannibal swallowed hard and opened the door.

As Hannibal stepped into the room, his eyes immediately sought out Bedelia, who was sitting upright on her side of the bed. The soft yellow glow of the bedside lamp was soothing, and provided the only light in the room; but despite this, it was immediately apparent that Bedelia had recently been crying, and was attempting to conceal it.

Bedelia was sitting upright against the pillows, her arms by her side and her hands curled towards her thighs in a curious way which bordered on unnatural; it was almost as though she did not know what to do with her hands. Except Hannibal was quite certain that she did, and her glazed eyes and melancholy expression confirmed it in an instant. As Bedelia blinked herself out of her stupor and turned towards him, his gaze was met by one of barely-restrained grief. The knot in the pit of his stomach pulled tighter still, and it was only when Bedelia broke his gaze and glanced vaguely down towards the tray in his hands that Hannibal found himself prompted to speak.

“I hope you will forgive the intrusion, but I wanted to bring you something to drink” Hannibal explained gently, his voice calm and soothing, as he placed the tray down on the bedside table next to Bedelia, who watched him with emotional eyes as he poured her a glass of water from a pitcher filled with water, ice and slices of lemon and lime. The kind and thoughtful gesture stirred something deep inside her, and she felt her resolve and temporary calmness begin to crumble.

“Thank you, Hannibal” Bedelia replied sincerely, her voice husky with emotion. She was incredibly thirsty, and they both knew why; though she was grateful that Hannibal did not say it out loud. She lifted her gaze to meet his as he handed her the glass, nodding almost imperceptibly in response to her gratitude, as she drew the glass to her lips with a trembling hand.

Hannibal hesitated for a moment and watched as Bedelia took a few small sips of the drink, before quickly consuming almost half of the glass, as he suspected she would. She placed her fingers to her lips and lowered the glass onto her lap, where she held it in both her hands, her gaze fixed upon it.

After a brief moment of consideration, Hannibal slowly eased himself onto the edge of the bed, and sat wordlessly for a few moments, in order to enable Bedelia to express her frustration with any perceived intrusion, but she did not. Instead, she lifted her eyes from the glass and met his gaze with a confident expression he knew it had taken every ounce of her energy and determination to muster. The knot tightened yet again.

“I also brought you some Panadol, for the pain” Hannibal advised gently, removing the packet of white ovular tablets from the tray. He felt Bedelia avert her gaze from him before he saw it. “Under the circumstances I am afraid I cannot offer you anything stronger” he advised, genuine regret present in his tone, as he turned towards her and she met his gaze warily. “This should help with the pain” he added soothingly.

Bedelia stared at the packet of tablets in Hannibal’s hand, which he was opening, the sound of his fingernails against the foil causing her anxiety to increase tenfold, and for a moment it was stronger than her physical pain. But she knew immediately that she did not want to take any painkillers; her body had already revealed how averse it was to keeping their unborn baby safe, she did not want to give it further ammunition or excuse, despite her confidence that she would miscarry. Besides, she deserved the pain.

“No, thank you” Bedelia said quietly, swallowing hand and pressing her hands tightly to the glass. Hannibal stilled his hands and looked up at her, and she turned towards him as she felt his gaze upon her, observing the brief look of surprise upon his face, which disappeared as quickly as it came.

“Panadol is perfectly safe to take during pregnancy” Hannibal assured her. Bedelia nodded almost imperceptibly in acknowledgement.

“I am aware of that” she replied, not impolitely. There was a brief pause and she could feel Hannibal assessing her with his eyes.

“You are in pain” Hannibal stated, his tone assured but not overbearing. Bedelia swallowed heavily.

“I’m experiencing some mild discomfort” Bedelia lied, downplaying the strong intensity of the menstrual-cramp like pain she was enduring, which assaulted her relentlessly. “It’s not as bad as it was” she added absently, her second lie in a row. Hannibal recognised them as such the moment they left her lips.

For a moment, Bedelia found herself lost in her thoughts as she retreated into her mind; but she was drawn from them presently by the sensation of the cold glass being taken gently from her, and replaced by Hannibal’s familiar hand. He placed his right hand over hers and squeezed it gently, prompting Bedelia to swallow thickly before she looked up at him once again. Her eyes met his, and she found genuine sympathy and understanding in his expression; and it hurt her worse than any abdominal cramping.

“There is no reason for you to be in pain” Hannibal said simply, his voice measured but kind. “It won’t hurt the baby” he assured her.

Hannibal watched as pain flashed in Bedelia’s eyes and her bottom lip trembled, her expression identical to the one she had worn when she declined to listen to the heartbeat. And now, like then, she was averting her eyes from him once more. And now, like then, he immediately understood why, her present actions confirming his previous suspicions; Bedelia was convinced that this pregnancy would end in a miscarriage, and she was trying to separate herself from her unborn child in an attempt to protect herself from the pain which she felt was inevitable; and it was tearing her apart.

Bedelia stiffened and removed her hand from Hannibal’s, clasping her hands tightly together as she battled to regain the composure which she had tried so hard to maintain. But she was upset and exhausted and in a considerable amount of pain, and Hannibal’s kindness and understanding cut through her, adding deep wounds to her existing injuries. And as Hannibal watched her and considered her dilemma, which she knew he would understand immediately, he chose his next words very carefully, aware of how much he could hurt her if he did not approach the subject in the right way.

“From your symptoms and my examinations, I believe you are experiencing a ‘Threatened Miscarriage’” Hannibal explained gently, watching Bedelia carefully as he spoke. She would know what a Threatened Miscarriage was, and he suspected she had already considered this diagnosis. Her eyes were glassy and edged with tears, but her expression was hidden behind an unreadable mask, her own Person Suit concealing her feelings from him. Or, at least, trying to. “But the bleeding has stopped, your cervix is closed, and the baby’s heartbeat is strong” he assured her, noticing a tightening in her jaw each time he uttered the word ‘baby’. And on this occasion, she swallowed hard. “You haven’t lost the baby, Bedelia” he soothed. Pain flashed in Bedelia’s eyes and her expression almost crumpled once more, but she recovered herself just in time.

“Not yet” Bedelia replied quietly, her voice low and most unlike her own. She blinked in surprise when she realised she had uttered her response out loud. “Half of Threatened Miscarriages do result in a miscarriage” she continued. Hannibal watched as stared absently ahead of her, at a space somewhere across the darkened room. Anywhere, really, except down towards her belly.

“Which means that half do not” Hannibal advised tentatively. Although he was aware of the higher risk of miscarriage due to the nature of this pregnancy and did not wish to give Bedelia false hope, he was also aware of the almost equal possibility of her carrying their child to term, and he wanted to ensure that Bedelia remembered that too.

A small, fragile smile played upon Bedelia’s lips, the type of a smile earned by a small child who tries to console a crying adult; a smile of gratitude for the attempt, but one which reveals that attempt was far from successful. But it took Bedelia barely a moment to regain her composure.

“The pregnancy is already very high risk” Bedelia explained, her voice quiet and weak, her tone resigned. “My age, the previous bleeding, our situation” she continued with weary sadness. “The child cannot survive, Hannibal” she stated sadly, her eyes meeting his for the first time in a while, despite her impersonal use of the word ‘the’ to describe her condition and their baby tearing her apart with every utterance. “My body will not allow it” she added tearfully, swallowing hard and averting her gaze from his, as she tried to calm herself. Hannibal resisted a strong urge to reach out and touch her, but he knew that to do so would send her over the edge, and she clearly did not want to break down in front of him.

“Your body is doing more than allowing it, it is fighting for it” Hannibal stated with conviction. “You have experienced bleeding twice in recent weeks, and on both of those occasions your body has protected the pregnancy” he continued, deliberately avoiding the use of the word ‘baby’ so as not to upset her further. “The heartbeat is very strong, and-”

“Stop” Bedelia said suddenly, the word a breathless utterance, the emotion in her tone matching that of her expression. “Please, stop” she added quietly, closing her eyes as a single hot tear burned a cruel line down her cheek. She wiped it away immediately, and Hannibal caught her hand in his own as she lowered it. Bedelia allowed him to hold it and squeezed his own gently, though displayed no other acknowledgement of the physical contact they shared. Instead, they sat in perfect silence whilst Hannibal waited respectfully for her to recover herself and to speak. “I lost so much blood on both occasions” she said quietly.

“And you recovered on both occasions” Hannibal reminded her, his voice low and gentle. “Bedelia, you are recovering” he assured her. Bedelia pressed her lips together and shook her head twice, before lowering her gaze to her lap.

Hannibal and Bedelia sat together for some time silence, which was devoid of feelings of discomfort and awkwardness, and was instead one founded on respect. After a couple of minutes Bedelia squeezed Hannibal’s hand gently, and moments later began to speak, her gaze holding his with as confident an expression as she could muster. The fact that Hannibal clearly wanted their child to survive, regardless of the reasons for that, gave her all the courage she needed. Despite her certainty that that would not be the outcome.

“I understand that, despite the shock of my pregnancy and our current circumstances, you want this child” Bedelia began carefully, pausing for a moment and swallowing the words _“and so do I”_ , before continuing in a calm, intelligent and measured manner, similar to the tone she used when advising Hannibal when he was her patient. Hannibal recognised this as a further attempt by Bedelia to distance herself from a pregnancy she felt certain would not result in a child, and something deep inside him ached. “But given the high risk nature of this pregnancy and the complications I have experienced so far, the chances of this resulting in an infant are very, very low” she explained, her breath catching in her throat as she uttered the final word. But they were words she needed to say out loud, and ones which they both needed to hear. She watched as Hannibal listened attentively and considered what she had said.

“There is a risk of miscarriage, as there is with every pregnancy, though I do understand that statistically there is a higher possibility of it in this case” Hannibal gently conceded, trying not to focus on the words as he spoke them. “But your pregnancy itself defies statistics” he stated with conviction. “Given both our ages, our use of contraception and other factors, the statistical probability of us conceiving a child together was very low, considerably lower than the risk of miscarriage” he explained. “This baby appears determined to defy statistics, and it is continuing to do so, even now” he advised.

Bedelia stared at Hannibal as he spoke, considering his words in her mind as she processed what he was saying. She had not thought about her pregnancy in this way before, and from a scientifically objective perspective, she knew that he was right. However, the ray of hope which she could feel blossoming deep within her belly, generating a sensation somewhere between anxiety and excitement, was quickly extinguished by the cruel logic of her mind, and the painful cramping in her belly.

“This is not an inevitable loss, Bedelia” Hannibal assured her, his words tearing her sharply from her thoughts.

Bedelia looked up at Hannibal immediately, and clenched her jaw in an attempt not to cry, as she listened to him talking in earnest.

“The evidence of the past two weeks would suggest otherwise” Bedelia replied quietly. Hannibal ran his thumb gently down the palm of your hand.

“I cannot guarantee that this pregnancy will result in a healthy child” Hannibal admitted solemnly and with great reluctance. “All pregnancies are unpredictable, some more than others” he advised. “In this instance, there are higher risks, concerning the pregnancy itself, childbirth, and the baby’s health, of which we are both aware” he continued, watching as Bedelia swallowed hard and nodded once in agreement. “What we are also both aware of, is that right now, at this moment, our unborn child has a heartbeat” he stated simply. Bedelia’s eyes glistened and she inhaled sharply. “A very strong, very defiant heartbeat” he added. Bedelia closed her eyes and let out a slow breath. “When there is a heartbeat, there is life.”

“For now” Bedelia stated sadly. Hannibal lowered his gaze slightly.

“Now is all any of us truly have” Hannibal reasoned. Bedelia blinked tiredly and nodded in agreement. “Despite how desperate we may be for more” he added softly. Bedelia swallowed hard and turned towards him.

Bedelia was tired and in pain and utterly torn between Hannibal’s perfectly logical, scientific argument, and her own equally logical yet deeply personal fear. Although Hannibal had, to an extent, reminded her that there was a possibility that this pregnancy would not end in a miscarriage, she found it impossible to believe that anything else was possible, as losing the baby seemed inevitable. Indeed, she found herself desperately trying to distance herself from her condition, and avoid terms such as ‘baby’ and ‘child’ altogether; because she hoped that coping with such a devastating loss would be far easier if she could think of it not as an unborn child, but cells and blood and nothing else at all.

Except she couldn’t.

Because it _wasn’t._

“Bedelia” Hannibal said gently, squeezing her hand comfortingly, and drawing her slowly out of her thoughts. It was only then that she realised she had been crying. “I cannot offer you the guarantee you would like, the guarantee I wish I could give you” he explained. “But I assure you I will do everything I can to protect you and this pregnancy” he stated with conviction. “And our child” he added. Bedelia inhaled sharply and held his gaze. Although she did not question his sincerity, she could not bring herself to be comforted by his words; because she did not believe that her body would allow this pregnancy to continue, so there would be no child to protect.

“Thank you” she replied, her voice quiet but sincere. Hannibal nodded slowly in acknowledgement, and noticed the deep sadness in her eyes.

“Are you certain you will not take the Panadol?” Hannibal asked. Bedelia blinked herself out of her thoughts, the sharp change in conversation topic jarring her somewhat. She shook her head once more. “Alright” he responded amiably. “I will leave it here for you, in case you change your mind” he added, placing the packet on the bedside table. Bedelia quietly thanked him and met his gaze as he turned back towards her. “Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked kindly.

Bedelia felt her stomach tighten with guilt at Hannibal’s kindness, and her need to refuse it. She swallowed hard and shook her head.

“No, thank you” Bedelia replied gently. “I just want to sleep” she added honestly. Hannibal nodded in understanding. It was quite clear that she wanted to be alone, which he both respected and understood.

“Then I’ll leave you to get some rest” he returned immediately, in a tone of such simplicity and ease that Bedelia almost felt comforted. Almost. “I will be in the kitchen if you need me” he explained. Bedelia nodded in understanding.

“Thank you, Hannibal” she replied sincerely.

Hannibal lifted their entwined hands into the air and drew her hand towards his lips, kissing it tenderly. She tasted bitter with fear, and he was keen to remedy it, though at present he knew he was powerless to do so.

“I’ll be back in an hour or so to check on you” he advised. “Though I shan’t wake you” he assured her. Bedelia forced a polite smile and nodded, blinking languidly as he lowered her hand onto the bed and then rose to his feet.

After watching Hannibal leave the room and close the door behind himself, Bedelia lay back against the pillows and turned off the light, bathing the room in perfect darkness.

Feeling upset and in pain and utterly exhausted, she closed her eyes and was relieved to find herself quickly falling into a comforting oblivion.


	40. Chapter 40

After sleeping deeply for several hours, Bedelia found herself gradually rising from her slumber due to a profound feeling of thirst, which was so strong that it demanded immediate action.

Bedelia realised she had turned onto her right side at some point during her slumber, and was feeling warm and comfortable beneath the soft sheets. She became immediately aware of the fact that the strong, painful cramping which had so recently afflicted her had now disappeared, and was replaced with a barely noticeable dull ache at the base of her belly. She was also a little sore from her intimate examination, but the physical discomfort she was experiencing was more than bearable. The lack of pain, combined with her realisation that she had not lost any more blood, caused a wave of relief to wash over Bedelia immediately. However, the moment was brief and fleeting, as she refused to allow herself to focus too heavily on her cruel body’s illusion of hope; instead, she suppressed her relief and hardened her heart and her mind to the fact of her pregnancy, forcing herself to supress any acknowledgement of it. Thankfully, the sensation of warmth over her left hand prompted her to slowly open her eyes and blinked heavily, as she cautiously glanced towards its source.

As Bedelia opened her eyes and her vision became accustomed to the dimness of the room, she found herself staring at Hannibal, who was sitting in an armchair next to her bed, his head titled down as he slept, his strong hand placed comfortingly over her own.

Bedelia felt a guilty tightening in her stomach as she stared at Hannibal, who had been watching over her as she slept. She found herself experiencing a strong wave of sadness at his hopeful vigil at her bedside, which she knew would do nothing to prevent the loss which they would both soon be experiencing. Inhaling sharply and forcing herself to suppress the sadness and guilt which threatened to consume her, Bedelia carefully extracted her hand from Hannibal’s and eased herself up slowly into a sitting position.

Ignoring a mild wave of dizziness, Bedelia adjusted her pillows behind her back as she sat upright in the bed, quickly pulling the duvet over herself to conceal her belly from her sight. She then turned her attentions towards the bedside table, where she was relieved to find the tall pitcher of water which Hannibal had brought her several hours before. Although the ice had long since melted, the water was still pleasantly chilled, and she felt her thirst increase tenfold as she poured herself a generous glass.

Bedelia began by slowly sipping the water, which the citric undertones complemented beautifully, making it incredibly refreshing. However, she soon found that her thirst was strong and seemingly unquenchable, and she quickly consumed the entire glass, before pouring herself another.

Drawing the second glass to her lips somewhat breathlessly, Bedelia recovered herself and exercised some restraint, and took small, tentative sips. After consuming three quarters of the second glass, Bedelia turned her attentions towards Hannibal once more, who had not moved since she woke which, in itself, was a testament to his exhaustion. Hannibal was a lighter sleeper than even herself, and the fact that he had not woken yet showed just how tired he must be. She knew he had stayed awake for most of the previous night, and then rose early this morning, and proceeded to spend the entire day tending to her. Bedelia found the aching sensation of guilt returning to her once again.

As Bedelia watched the exhausted Hannibal sleep, she recalled just how kind and attentive he had been whilst caring for her, despite the shock of her condition. Although she had initially feared his anger, he had displayed none, though he did acknowledge disappointment that she had not confided in him concerning her condition. Despite her initial belief that his restraint was solely due his desire to protect the health of their unborn child as opposed to her, she found herself questioning this hypothesis. Although it was quite clear that he wanted this child, his actions over the past twenty four hours showed that he cared for her too; Hannibal had been genuinely concerned and disappointed when she had refused to take painkillers that evening, and she caught glimpses of genuine distress in his eyes and his countenance when she had been unable to conceal the extent of her pain. He had done everything he could to cure the physical and emotional pain she had displayed, showing that his concern was not limited to her pregnancy, but to her as well. Though as she sat and considered the facts, she could not help but wonder how Hannibal would react when she did eventually miscarry, which she imagined would be soon. Would his kindness end at the loss of their child? Would his devastation prompt him to blame her for their loss, the responsibility of which she already felt herself? Would he kill her for it?

The continued thoughts of her pregnancy – and the inevitable loss of it - caused Bedelia to feel upset and anxious once more, and the hands which held her glass began to tremble. Attempting to distance herself from the very idea of what she only permitted herself to acknowledge as her “condition” once more, Bedelia lifted the glass and attempted to put it back upon the bedside table. However, in her emotional and distracted state, she misjudged the positioning of the glass, and set it down over the edge of the table, causing it to fall to the ground and promptly shatter.

The sound of shattering glass drew Bedelia immediately out of her stupor, and prompted her to turn immediately towards the source of the sound. As she did so, she noticed movement from the armchair beside her, and her eyes met Hannibal’s as he too looked up from the broken glass. Hannibal was wide awake and alert in that instant, and she held his gaze with an apologetic expression.

“I’m sorry, I-” Bedelia began, her voice quiet and somewhat gravelly, as she pushed the bedsheets aside and attempted to rise. Hannibal rose from his seat immediately and stepped towards her.

“There is nothing to apologise for” Hannibal assured her, his voice confident and devoid of all remnants of sleep, as he took her hand and gently encouraged her back into bed. “It’s important you remain on complete bedrest” he explained gently. “You need to rest” he added, as he drew the bedsheets around her.

Bedelia leaned back against the pillows obediently, clasping her hand together in her lap, to prevent herself from touching her belly if nothing else. Hannibal noticed how she had drawn the bedsheets up to cover her stomach, as though the sight of it distressed her. As he bent down and began to collect the pieces of broken glass, he acknowledged that this was precisely the reason.

Bedelia let out a quiet sigh and clenched her jaw to prevent the tears which suddenly burned in her eyes. Hannibal’s kindness and care were wasted upon her, the ministrations were simply prolonging the agony, which was torture. The loss felt so inevitable that anything done in an attempt to prevent it felt like torture; and the notion of sitting in this bed for the foreseeable future until it happened filled her with dread bordering on terror.

Though, of course, Bedelia said none of this out loud.

By the time Bedelia had calmed herself Hannibal had tidied the glass and disposed of it, and was sitting on the bed beside her. She looked up at him with exhausted eyes and held his gaze with as much confidence as she could muster.

“You’ve been asleep for almost five hours” Hannibal informed her, his voice soothing and hypnotic. “How are you feeling?” he asked sincerely. Bedelia considered the question carefully before responding.

“I’m fine” Bedelia replied quietly, her words clipped but not impolite. Hannibal watched her closely.

“Are you experiencing any pain?” he asked gently. Bedelia shook her head.

“No” Bedelia responded. “It’s just sore. There’s no pain” she added. Hannibal nodded slowly and with great relief.

“It’s likely that you will feel very thirsty” Hannibal explained. “I’ll get you another glass” he added. Bedelia thanked him quietly. “Do you think you would be able to eat something?”

“No” Bedelia responded resolutely. Although she was aware of feeling rather hungry, she had no inclination to eat. She felt nauseous with anxiety and could not bear the prospect. “Thank you” she added quickly.

Hannibal was quiet for a moment as he considered her answer, and he focused on her expression. Her eyes bore a look of haunted recognition which was the hallmark of grief; she was mourning the loss of something which still existed, but which she felt certain was destined to die. And it was with great reluctance that Hannibal acknowledged there was little he could do to comfort her, or to relieve her pain. Bedelia was strong and independent and almost always perfectly contained, and he could see the armour of her Person Suit appearing before his eyes, and knew that it would be impenetrable. Whilst he was limited to assist her emotionally, physically there was something he could do.

“It’s important that you eat” he explained gently. “It will aid your recovery-”

“No, thank you” Bedelia interjected, her voice heavy with emotion. She swallowed hard as tears burned her eyes once more, and closed her eyes in frustration and let out a deep breath. She felt Hannibal’s hand holding hers gently and give it a reassuring squeeze, and it took every ounce of self-control she had not to cry.

“I’ll get you a new glass” Hannibal said gently, as he released Bedelia’s hand and rose to his feet, quickly leaving the room. It was quite clear that Bedelia needed a moment to recover herself, and he knew she would not want to break down in front of him.

As soon as Hannibal closed the bedroom door behind himself Bedelia placed her hand in her hands and burst into tears.

Knowing that she had little time until Hannibal returned, Bedelia allowed herself just a few moments to indulge in her emotional weakness, before wiping away her tears and taking in a deep, restorative breath. Her face bore an expression of grief and resignation, and she found herself feeling emotionally exhausted yet again. Sniffing slightly, Bedelia tucked some hair behind her ear before easing herself down beneath the bedsheets, and turning onto her left side, so that her back was facing the door. She then forced herself to close her eyes, hung tightly onto the edge of the pillow, and willed sleep to come.

When the door opened a minute or so later, she heard Hannibal hesitate in the doorway, before walking quietly into the room. Her eyes remained closed as he approached the bed, pouring Bedelia a fresh glass of water which he placed on the bedside table beside her. He then turned off her bedside lamp and quietly left the room.

As the door clicked closed behind Hannibal, Bedelia slowly opened her weary eyes, which stung with tiredness and tears. She was reluctant to admit just how much she wanted Hannibal to remain with her, and she was confident that she would sleep much better if he were beside her, or even holding her as he had done the night before. But she did not deserve his comfort or his kindness, both of which wounded her; and he did not deserve to be lying next to her when she lost their baby. A child she had never intended to exist, but now that it did, she found she desperately wanted. A child which their bodies had created but which hers refused to nurture, torturing her by tearing it away from her just as she had begun to grow accustomed to the idea of parenthood. Although, perhaps it was not her body refusing to fight for their baby, perhaps it really was doing everything it could to protect it, as Hannibal had said. Perhaps it was the other way around; not her body rejecting the baby, but the baby rejecting her. Tears burned in her eyes at the prospect; she could hardly blame it. Either way, pushing him away was, she reasoned, the kindest thing she could do under the circumstances. She would simply wait until the inevitable happened, remove all traces of it from herself and her bedroom, and then gently inform him when it was over.

 _It is the kindest thing to do, under the circumstances_ , Bedelia reasoned, as she closed her eyes once more and tried desperately not to cry.

Sleep would not come easily for her that night.


	41. Chapter 41

After lying awake for over an hour tormenting herself, Bedelia finally fell asleep shortly after midnight, and slept fitfully throughout the night, her slumber plagued by feelings of constant terror and deep unease. By half-past six in the morning Bedelia surrendered, realising that she would not be able to sleep, and instead accepted the profound feeling of exhaustion which afflicted her.

Despite feeling nauseous with exhaustion, Bedelia knew quite well that peaceful sleep would not come, and any attempt to achieve it would simply result in her lying awake in bed and been tormented by her mind. It was something she had experienced constantly during the night, and she was determined not to allow herself to indulge in it for a moment longer.

Ignoring her sudden realisation of how badly she tended to sleep when Hannibal was not beside her, Bedelia slowly eased herself into a sitting position and drained the remainder of her glass of water, before pouring herself another and quickly consuming it. She really was incredibly thirsty.

Exhaling breathlessly and wiping a stray droplet of water from the corner of her mouth, Bedelia sat perfectly still in the quiet dawn, feeling the warm glow of morning summer sun upon her shoulders and upper chest. As well as feeling completely and utterly exhausted, she felt hot, achy and rather unclean. She had not washed her hair the day before, and was feeling it now. And despite having cleaned herself yesterday evening and not having experienced any further bleeding, there were times that she would swear she felt the hot, sticky sensation of blood on her inner thighs. Indeed, there had been two or three occasions during the night where she had woken up utterly terrified, thrown the bedsheets off herself and turned on the lamp to examine herself, and even that immediate reassurance had not been enough to send her back to sleep. The fact that she forbade herself to even acknowledge how relieved she was to not be experiencing any bleeding or further pain did little to assist her efforts.

Not wishing to pursue that particular line of thought, having exhausted it completely during the night, Bedelia cast aside her duvet and rose to her feet. A strong wave of dizziness punished her for her haste, prompting her to sway slightly on her feet and grip the bedside table to steady herself. Bedelia closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, ignoring the profound feeling of hunger and unsteadiness she was currently experiencing, as she battled to regain control of her treacherous body. After a minute or so, she achieved it, and she walked slowly into the bathroom and locked the door behind her, before running a hot bath which she hoped would at least partially restore her.

As she watched hot water cascade out of the golden taps and into the bathtub, Bedelia perched herself on the edge of the bath and picked up her favourite bath-salts, which she tended to add with a liberal hand. However, just as she was about to add a generous handful, she found herself realising how ill-advised that would be in light of her recent bleeding. After the briefest of hesitations Bedelia sighed resignedly, before putting down the unopened bath salts with a sigh, and walking towards the sink to brush her teeth.

However, Bedelia had barely been standing before the sink for fifteen seconds when another wave of dizziness overcame her, prompting her to step backwards and ease herself cautiously onto the edge of the bath, where she remained as she slowly brushed her teeth. The combination of the sound of running water and the satisfying sensation of cleanliness she experienced by brushing her teeth eased her frustration somewhat, though not completely.

After rinsing her mouth with cold water, Bedelia rose to her feet and held onto the sink for balance, taking in several deep breaths in order to ground herself. She then untied her kimono and removed her underwear, before pulling her nightdress over her head, and trying to ignore the sensation of the silk material gliding over her rounded belly as she lifted it. Swallowing thickly, Bedelia dropped the garments into the washing basket and walked slowly towards the bath, turning off the taps and testing the water with her hand, before easing herself into its welcoming embrace.

After laying back in hot water for almost twenty minutes, Bedelia found herself feeling comfortable, but not at all relaxed. She felt tired and sad and very alone, though she refused to wallow in any of it, reminding herself that it was quite her own doing. The feelings of numbness and detachment she was forcing herself to adopt when it came to what she tried to think of simply as her “condition” only added to her turmoil, and she found herself feeling untethered from herself and from the world, as though she were somehow becoming separated from her very existence. And she knew precisely why.

Closing her eyes in an attempt to calm herself before her emotions overwhelmed her, Bedelia let out a deep breath and slowly slipped beneath the water.

Half an hour later, Bedelia emerged from the bathroom feeling emotionally numb and detached, but more physically comfortable than she had felt in a while. She felt weak and light-headed but was not in pain, and her bath had made her feel slightly better. She slowly changed into a new nightdress and a black robe, which was the most loose-fitting one she owned; but as she secured it about her waist she felt the material pull against her rounded belly, accentuating its shape. She felt a sudden rush of exhilaration at the sight, which promptly plummeted as she reminded herself that it would never be. Bedelia swallowed thickly and blinked back the hot tears which pricked her eyes, before loosening her robe slightly and retreating back to her bed.

Despite not believing it would do the slightest bit of good, she would accede to Hannibal’s instructions to remain in bed; mainly because she felt too tired to argue, and had no inclination to do anything else, despite fearing she may go out of her mind due to boredom and inactivity. Or worse, she may endure constant, torturous days just like the endless night she had battled through. But despite this, at present, she found that all she wanted to do was to fall into a deep and dreamless sleep and wake up when it was all over, when all physical evidence of the loss was gone, so she could begin to deal with the emotional aftermath. Because remaining in this perpetual state of emotional limbo was the strongest form of torture and the cruellest type of pain that she had ever experienced in her life.

After sitting in a stupor for over ten minutes which she had been completely oblivious to, Bedelia was pulled out of it sharply by a familiar knock at the bedroom door. Her stomach tightened as she turned towards it, guilt and apprehension overwhelming her. And yet, somehow, she managed to compose herself enough to formulate a response.

“Come in” Bedelia called, her voice calm and controlled, though somehow not quite her own.

Hannibal opened the door slowly and stepped into the room, his eyes meeting Bedelia’s gaze as he walked slowly towards her. Her hair was damp and her pale cheeks were flushed pink with heat from her recent bath, but despite the healthy glow this afforded her, her eyes betrayed her; she looked tired and emotional, and it appeared as though she had been recently crying. Hannibal tried to ignore the uncomfortable tightening in the pit of his stomach as he walked towards her.

“Good morning” Hannibal greeted warmly. Bedelia blinked tiredly and forced a small smile.

“Good morning” she returned, her keen gaze drifting towards the items he was carrying, a puzzled expression forming on her face. “What are those?” she asked curiously.

Hannibal paused as he reached the edge of the bed, and looked down at the stack of items he was carrying in his hands, feeling Bedelia’s eyes upon them as he did so.

“I once had a patient with a history of health problems tell me that the most difficult condition he had suffered with was boredom” Hannibal said simply, as he eased himself onto the edge of the bed. Bedelia tried to ignore the sudden feeling of excitement at his proximity, and focused instead on the matter at hand, meeting his eyes as he looked up at her. “Bedrest is not nearly as simple as some people might imagine, especially in situations such as this one” he said gently. Bedelia swallowed hard and avoided his gaze. Not wishing to make her feel uncomfortable, Hannibal promptly continued. “So I brought some things which I hoped would occupy you” he explained, causing Bedelia to turn towards him once again with some effort, as he began to present them to her. “Your laptop and charger” he began, placing the items on her bedside table as he spoke, “your phone and charger” he added, placing those on top of the laptop, along with her earphones, “and your book” he continued, as he placed her treasured edition of _To Kill A Mockingbird_ on the table next to it. Bedelia felt a grateful smile tug at her lips, and she was suddenly overcome with a wave of sadness. “I also bought you the Italian, American and British newspapers you like to read” he advised, as he placed them gently on her lap. Bedelia looked down instinctively and began to flick through them.

“These are dated today” she said quietly, glancing up at him as she spoke. “But it’s barely eight o’clock” she added, confusion present in her tone.

“The street vendors sell them from six” Hannibal responded simply. Bedelia felt tears sting her eyes and she averted his gaze, swallowing thickly as she sought to regain her composure. “I will buy the new editions for you each morning” he informed her.

Bedelia bit the inside of her cheek and internally chastised herself for becoming so ridiculously emotional over a matter as inconsequential as a newspaper. Except it was far from inconsequential.

Despite her best attempts at pushing Hannibal away, he continued to take care of her, in a way which respected her desire for privacy and solitude whilst reassuring her that she was not alone. She had behaved quite coldly towards him the day before, trying to push him away due to reasons she could not admit out loud, but she felt confident he had already surmised. She did not deserve his kindness. She looked up slowly and met his gaze.

“Thank you, Hannibal” Bedelia said sincerely, her voice quiet and laced with emotion. Hannibal nodded politely in acknowledgement.

“I know it won’t make this any easier for you” Hannibal sympathised. “But I hope it will at least provide an ample distraction, and help you pass some of the time” he advised.

Bedelia felt her stomach tighten. It was quite clear that Hannibal knew she wanted to be alone, and not only did he accept that, he was providing her with ways to distract herself. And once again, his kindness wounded her.

“I have called a colleague at the studiolo and explained that you and I have unfortunately come down with food poisoning” Hannibal explained quietly.

A sad smile formed on Bedelia’s lips as she considered the partial truth of that statement; something inside her was disagreeing with her, and her body was trying to purge her of it. She was relieved when Hannibal continued to speak.

“I will be working from home this week, and will be in the study if you need me” Hannibal advised, providing her with another indication that he was respecting her desire to be alone, whilst reassuring her that he would be there for her if she needed him. Her stomach clenched with guilt, and she nodded in acknowledgement.

“Thank you” Bedelia said quietly. Hannibal smiled softly.

“I understand that the prospect of bedrest is not one which you are looking forward to, but I’m afraid I must insist on it for at least a week” Hannibal explained gently. Bedelia’s eyes glazed over and she nodded. She did not for one moment think that this pregnancy – her _condition_ , she corrected herself furiously – would last another week.

“Fine” Bedelia responded, her voice polite but her tone resigned. Though she could not quite meet his gaze. Hannibal watched her carefully for a few moments, before proceeding with caution.

“I would also like to examine you twice a day. Once in the morning and once in the evening” Hannibal explained gently, his words prompting Bedelia to look up at him with an expression of barely concealed wariness and dread. “It will not be invasive” he quickly assured her. “I would just like to monitor your heart rate and blood pressure” he explained, “as well as carrying out an abdominal examination” he added delicately. Bedelia swallowed hard and he watched her dig her nails into her palm. Hannibal waited patiently as Bedelia considered his words.

“Is that really necessary?” she asked quietly, her voice tinged with sadness, her tone somewhat distant, almost detached, as she considered the futility of such actions. There was nothing either of them could do, despite desperately wanting to. Hannibal placed his hand over hers and felt the tension beneath his palm. He stroked his thumb along her hand and felt her fingers flex, as she relaxed slightly. He chose his next words carefully out of concern for upsetting her, knowing that it was best to respond in as brief and factual a manner as possible.

“I believe it is” he replied gently. Bedelia inhaled deeply and turned towards him, before nodding her head in wordless assent. “Thank you” she added sincerely. Bedelia slowly extracted her hand from beneath his, and Hannibal watched as her eyes glazed over once more, her face adopting a familiar expression of cool detachment, as she held his gaze with a looked of feigned confidence.

“Would you like to begin now?” Bedelia asked, relieved that she was able to keep the tremor out of her voice, despite her rising feeling of unease and nausea.

“If you will allow it” Hannibal responded kindly, his manner patient and respectful. Bedelia nodded in response and clasped her hands in her lap. “I’ll get my medical bag” he advised, before rising to his feet and walking out of the room.

Bedelia closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in and releasing several breaths rhythmically in an attempt to calm herself, as she tried to suppress the rising feeling of dread that was threatening to overcome her completely. It was only when she heard the door begin to open that she opened her eyes, turning her attentions cautiously towards Hannibal. For some reason, she suddenly found herself feeling calm.

Bedelia’s calmness - which was borne from an element of detachment which she forced herself to adopt, despite her mind’s protests – seemed almost authentic as Hannibal took her pulse, which he nodded in approval of and remarked was “good” and “strong”. Indeed, she even maintained at least an illusion of self-possession and control as she untied her robe and removed it in order to enable Hannibal to take her blood pressure. She nodded absently as he remarked it was still rather low, but that that was “not uncommon, given the circumstances”. Her blood pressure did not overly concern her. Though the examination which she knew would follow certainly did, and it was at that point that she felt her calm façade slowly begin to break.

“Bedelia, would you please lie back for me so I can examine your abdomen?” Hannibal asked gently, standing beside her as he spoke. Bedelia fought her instincts, which were to refuse, and nodded her assent, as she lay back mechanically against the pillows. “Thank you” Hannibal added sincerely. “It won’t take long” he assured her. Bedelia nodded absently in response.

Hannibal drew the duvet down over Bedelia’s body until it rested on her hips, before drawing the black silk of her nightdress up over her belly. Bedelia clenched her jaw and stared up at the ceiling, gripping a fistful of the bedsheet so tightly that her knuckles whitened, as she tried to ignore what was happening and imagine herself being anywhere but there, present in that moment, and she almost managed it too.

Until she felt Hannibal’s warm hands gently examining her belly, applying gentle pressure and then a little more, only when he was confident she could bear it. Bedelia closed her eyes tightly and tried to ignore the sensation of warmth pooling in the base of her belly, which Hannibal’s touch upon her swollen belly induced. Thankfully, his touch was soon replaced with that of cold metal, and she opened her eyes instinctively at the sharp change in sensation. She found herself tempted to look down, but stopped herself before the notion developed into an idea, much less an intention. Instead, she stared over Hannibal’s head and towards the bathroom door, as she tried desperately to ignore what he was doing. She found herself feeling suddenly very impatient, and torn between her strong instinct to ask if everything was alright, and a desire to push his hands away and tell him it was enough. In the end, it was Hannibal’s voice which prompted her to reach a middle ground.

“The heartbeat is very strong” Hannibal informed Bedelia, sensing her anxiety and hoping that this revelation would comfort her.

Hannibal watched her eyes become glassy, as they glanced briefly down towards him, before she turned her head sadly to the side. Although the glance had been brief, he had noticed the look of longing almost immediately. He watched Bedelia for a few moments and considered his next words.

“Would you like to hear it?” he offered gently, sensing how desperately she wanted to, despite her clear attempts to fight it.

Bedelia’s eyes shone with tears and her bottom lip trembled, as she continued to stare at the bedroom door. She shook her head ‘no’ and felt guilt wash over her, rendering her unable to express her refusal out loud.

“It’s alright” Hannibal assured her kindly, as he drew her silk nightdress down over her belly.

Bedelia quickly wiped her eyes and pushed herself up into a sitting position, pulling her robe back on and hastily securing it, as though wanting to conceal her body as quickly as possible. Hannibal rose to his feet and she immediately drew the covers over her belly, before leaning back against the pillows, and clasping her hands in her lap.

“Thank you” Hannibal said sincerely. Bedelia nodded in acknowledgement, and remained silent as Hannibal put his stethoscope back into his medical bag. “There is just one last thing I would like to discuss with you” he added. Bedelia blinked tiredly and turned her attentions towards him once more, watching as he produced three small glass bottles containing tablets from his bag. Her eyes scanned them with interest and she identified them before he spoke their names. “Folic acid, iron tablets and vitamin supplements” Hannibal advised, placing the three bottles on the bedside table beside Bedelia. “We talked about them briefly before” he reminded her, and she nodded absently. “You know the dose and the frequency. I will leave them with you” he added simply, prompting Bedelia to turn towards him with an expression of confusion and curiosity. Was this a test of trust, or a display of it? Surely he would want to oversee her taking the medication, given the fact she had made her confidence that her condition was only going to be very temporary quite clear. And yet, he did not. “Though of course if you do need assistance-”

“Thank you” Bedelia said quietly, glancing towards the tablets one more, and then back to Hannibal. He reached out and stroked a damp lock of hair behind her ear, and she felt a brief wave of excitement at his touch. He was looking at her with a combination of affection and concern.

“You are very pale, Bedelia” Hannibal remarked, not unkindly. “Do you think you would be able to eat something?” he asked gently.

Bedelia’s immediate thought was to refuse, but in truth she was feeling incredibly hungry, almost nauseous due to her lack of sustenance. She recalled that she had not eaten since yesterday lunchtime, and that had only been soup. She was famished, though she did not want to eat. But she was feeling almost sick with hunger, so she reluctantly assented to her body’s demands.

“Do you have any homemade marmalade?” she wondered aloud, the words escaping her lips merely moments after they had formed in her mind. A smile blossomed on Hannibal’s lips for the first time that morning, and a small one played on her own too.

“Toast and homemade marmalade it is” Hannibal said warmly, before rising to his feet and lifting his medical bag off the bed, as he walked confidently out of the room.

Bedelia leaned back against the pillows and stared straight ahead, finding herself lost in her thoughts for several moments. Feeling very thirsty, she turned towards her bedside table and reached for her glass, her eyes drifting towards the bottles of tablets as she did so. Hannibal could quite easily have administered the pills (though she felt confident he would not force her to take them), but instead he had left them to her to decide if and when she would take them.

Bedelia’s fingers ghosted over her water glass, and then drifted towards the first of the three bottles, which contained the folic acid. She felt a sudden wave of sadness at the futility of those bottles, and Hannibal’s determination to do everything he could to monitor, protect and nurture this pregnancy.

 _Condition_ , she corrected herself with frustration, as she forcefully reminded herself yet again that there was no hope of its survival.

But despite her doubts and against her reason, after a brief period of consideration Bedelia found herself opening the bottles and taking the requisite number of tablets from each, placing them in her mouth and swallowing them with a generous amount of water. She then put the bottles in the top drawer of her bedside table and closed it firmly, as though the very sight of them affronted her, and then tried desperately not to focus too much upon it at all.

 _It doesn’t mean anything_ , she reasoned, clasping her hands slightly tighter together in her lap. _It doesn’t mean anything at all._


	42. Chapter 42

In an attempt to distract herself from her wandering thoughts concerning the medication she had just taken, Bedelia spent the next ten minutes charging her phone and checking her emails and various local and international news websites. She then set up her laptop and rested it on a pillow to her left, to ensure that it would not overheat if she were to fall asleep. She had just typed in her password when a gentle knock at the door announced Hannibal’s return, and she bade him to enter once more.

Bedelia release a deep breath and rested her hands by her sides as Hannibal walked towards her and placed a tray on her lap, prompting her to thank him absently as her hungry gaze becoming immediately transfixed upon the contents. Hannibal had provided her with no less than six triangular cut slices of toast, with small dishes containing generous servings of homemade marmalade and fresh butter. There was also a bowl of fresh fruit and a tall glass filled with freshly squeezed orange juice. As she inhaled the delicious scents of the food before her, Bedelia found her previous reluctance to eat – despite her prevalent hunger – disappeared almost entirely, and even her anxiety concerning her condition was not enough to still her appetite. She immediately reached for a slice of toast and buttered it keenly, adding a generous amount of marmalade and drawing it to her lips. She was so deeply focused upon her breakfast that she did not notice Hannibal’s look of palpable relief as he watched her eat.

After eating the first slice of toast Bedelia reached for another, but then hesitated, a look of concern marring her features. Hannibal felt something deep inside of him ache, and this sensation increased tenfold at his immediately knowledge that she would not discuss her fear with him, despite the fact that he knew what it was. And despite his reluctance to admit it, it was quite clear that Bedelia wished to be alone.

“I’ll leave you to enjoy your breakfast” Hannibal announced amiably, the sound of his voice prompting Bedelia to blink herself out of her stupor and look up at him. “I will be in the study if you need me” he explained.

“Thank you” Bedelia responded quietly, forcing a small smile which did not quite reach her eyes. Hannibal nodded in response and turned on the spot, walking slowly out of the room and closing the door behind him, whilst resisting a strong urge to look back.

In the minutes that followed Hannibal’s departure, Bedelia found her previous desire to eat completely overwhelmed by her rising anxiety, which she had almost the moment she finished the first slice. Bedelia felt tired and overwhelmed, and was desperate to simply fall asleep and only wake once it was all over. Her attempts at distancing herself from her condition and her reality had led to her feeling somewhat untethered, almost as though she was floating. Forcing aside her analysis into her own thoughts, Bedelia returned her attentions to the breakfast tray once more, and reminded herself most firmly that she must eat; to prevent herself from feeling quite so nauseous and shaky, if nothing else. By some miracle she forced herself to eat another slice of toast, and then picked at the fruit, before finding her body most unwilling to allow her to proceed any further, and so she surrendered the tray to the bedside table.

Bedelia picked up the first of the newspapers which Hannibal had purchased for her, the British publication, and began to read. But she quickly found that she was too tired to concentrate, having read the same sentence six times and not recalling a single word of it. Feeling dizzy and frustrated, Bedelia placed the magazines on the bedside table, before turning onto her left side to face her laptop.

After tiredly scouring one of the many streaming sites she subscribed to, Bedelia selected a British police series which she enjoyed, and decided to watch it again from the beginning. She was sufficiently familiar with the series to be able to have it on in the background without needing to concentrate too much, which her current level of physical and emotional exhaustion clearly prohibited. And so, feeling sleepy and nutritionally sated, Bedelia found herself closing her eyes and snuggling down beneath the bedsheets, with sleep claiming her before she got halfway through the first episode.

When Bedelia awoke to the sound of the opening credits, she checked her phone and found that three hours had passed. Blinking tiredly, she tentatively eased herself into a sitting position before remaining completely still for several moments. Realising that she felt fine, Bedelia found relief wash over her, which she promptly suppressed, before reaching for the glass of orange juice on her bedside table. As she did so, her eyes drifted towards a new addition to the table, which captured her attention almost immediately.

Although the glass of freshly squeezed orange juice stood tall beside the pitcher of cold water, the breakfast tray had been removed, and was replaced with a white plate laden with freshly-baked shortbread lightly dusted with sugar. The shortbread had been cut into triangles and arranged in a decorative pattern which resembled a star, and it was stunning. To accompany the shortbread were small bowls of sliced strawberries, raspberries and orange segments.

Despite not wishing to acknowledge her hunger, Bedelia found herself reaching for the inviting platter instinctively, and she ate two pieces of shortbread and several slices of strawberry before her anxiety had a chance to prevent her.

Feeling sufficiently rested, Bedelia placed her laptop on her lap and plugged in her earphones, whilst quickly locating the episode which she was watching when she fell asleep and finding her place. She stared at the screen and tried to focus on the familiar storyline, in an attempt to engross herself in something escapist and utterly mind-numbing in order to distract herself from her present situation, and to pass the hours as quickly as possible until the inevitable conclusion which she fearfully awaited. It was a testament to the success of this method that she absently consumed another three pieces of shortbread before she registered a single one passing her lips.

Two further hours passed, and Bedelia found herself beginning to feel tired once again. Before she could decide whether to surrender herself to sleep once more, there was a familiar knock at the door.

“Come in” Bedelia called, as she paused the episode and removed her earphones.

Bedelia lowered the lid of the laptop and placed it next to her as Hannibal entered the room, carrying another tray laden with homemade soup from the day before, together with more of the delicious authentic Italian bread. Bedelia felt a sad smile play upon her lips, as guilt began to pool in the base of her stomach. She found herself feeling awkward and guilt-ridden about the prospect of Hannibal waiting on her, and those feelings intensified by how kind and attentive he was being; in truth, she was struggling with the prospect of being ‘looked after’. Especially as there would not be a positive outcome.

“Hannibal” Bedelia said suddenly, in an attempt to still her treacherous thoughts. Hannibal paused at her bedside and met her gaze with patient expectancy. Bedelia found herself suddenly rather uncertain as to how to proceed. “Whilst I appreciate your attentiveness and your generosity, please don’t feel as though you have to take care of me” she began cautiously, not wishing Hannibal to misunderstand her, and perceive ingratitude. “It really isn’t necessary” she added, a sadder edge to her voice than she had intended.

Hannibal held Bedelia’s gaze for a couple of moments and considered her expression; sadness, resignation and grief still marred her features, and he felt his stomach tighten almost painfully at this fact, especially as he knew there was nothing he could do to assist her. Hannibal stepped forward and placed the tray on Bedelia’s lap, an act which drew the covers which concealed her belly down slightly, revealing a glimpse of her pregnant belly. He tore his gaze away from it and eased himself down onto the bed beside Bedelia, meeting her gaze as he did so.

“I told you once that I feel protective of you, and that is true. It has always been true, but especially now” he explained. “I am not taking care of you, Bedelia, I am simply feeding you” he stated amiably. “You are doing an excellent job at taking care of yourself” he stated sincerely. Bedelia swallowed hard and averted his gaze, her eyes drifting down towards the tray on her lap.

Hannibal followed Bedelia’s gaze instinctively, but found his own somewhat distracted, focusing down towards her belly, which was swathed in the black silk fabric of her nightdress and matching robe. And yet, despite its constraints, Bedelia’s belly was defiantly prominent, her condition quite discernible. Bedelia quickly noticed the source of Hannibal’s fixation, and felt something deep inside her ache. She pulled the duvet up to cover her belly and looked up at Hannibal with a look of conviction.

“No, Hannibal, I’m not” Bedelia admitted quietly, her voice husky and her eyes filled with sadness. “There is nothing I can do to prevent this from happening” she added quietly, her voice breaking slightly at the final word. “I cannot wage a battle against nature” she stated sadly, as she tried desperately to regain control of her emotions. Hannibal’s gentle stroking of her cheek and the tender kiss he placed upon her forehead did not assist her in her efforts; though they did cause warmth to pool in the base of her belly, then spread across her entire body.

“I am not asking you to, Bedelia” Hannibal assured her kindly, his voice warm and sincere. “I am simply asking that you remain in bed, rest, and try to eat” he added gently. “That is you taking care of yourself” he explained. Bedelia blinked tiredly and nodded in response, as she turned her attention to the bowl of soup before her. It was quite clear that she did not wish to continue the conversation. “Is there anything I can do for you?” Hannibal asked. A sad smile appeared on Bedelia’s lips, but disappeared as quickly as it came.

“No, thank you” Bedelia returned politely. “This smells delicious” she added, in another attempt to change the course of the conversation. Hannibal forced a grateful smile and nodded.

“I will leave you in peace to enjoy it” he advised, before kissing her tenderly on the cheek, rising to his feet once more, and slowly walking out of the room.

As the door clicked shut behind Hannibal, Bedelia wiped away the tear which had fallen down her cheek, and blinked back the others which were threatening to follow. Despite feeling anxious and most unwilling to eat, her body was making its needs quite known, representing its hunger with a firm growl. Bedelia therefore lifted the soup spoon and began to eat mechanically. The combination of the delicious taste and the soothing nature of the soup reignited Bedelia’s hunger, and she found herself finishing the serving, though she did not touch the bread.

Feeling weary but sated, Bedelia lifted the lid on her laptop and removed the earphones, before easing herself down beneath the sheets and turning onto her side once more, as she stared at the screen and played the next episode, in a desperate attempt for a distraction.

Bedelia’s afternoon passed in the same manner as her morning, with her watching episodes of the drama series on her laptop and sleeping, as she willed the hours to pass as quickly as possible. In one of the few moments that she did allow herself to indulge in a moment of serious thought, Bedelia found herself comparing her current situation to being a passenger in a plane which had malfunctioned and was hurtling towards the ground. She was trapped, unable to act or alter her situation in the slightest, and was faced with the cruel reality of her own destruction. The minutes felt impossibly long, and the situation was so torturously cruel, that she found herself almost willing the inevitable impact to occur immediately, because at least then it would be over.

Except, of course, that was not at all how it worked. Reality was very inconsiderate, and far too cruel.

Instead, the conclusion which Bedelia felt certain was inevitable did not come quickly, nor did it provide her with any further signs of its imminent arrival. Instead, she found herself becoming embroiled in an endless cycle of sleep and exhaustion, distraction and deliberation, moments of clarity and descents into fear bordering on madness.

In the days that followed, Bedelia found herself adopting a new routine which she was reluctant to accept, but given little choice, acceding to the demands of her body and her desire to escape the torment of her mind. In the mornings, she would bathe and then change into a new nightdress and robe, before taking the medication which Hannibal had given her, which she tried not to give too much thought to, shutting the offending pill bottles into her bedside table at the earliest opportunity. Hannibal would then knock politely on her bedroom door and spend some time with her, before carrying out the first of her daily examinations, and then preparing her breakfast. She would then spend the time between meals and examinations occupying herself with a convenient distraction, and trying desperately not to focus on the nature of her current predicament. Which, unfortunately for Bedelia, was something which her furious mind punished her for when she was most vulnerable.

In the first few days of her prescribed bedrest, Bedelia found that her sleep was irregular and deeply unsatisfying, rendering her battling a constant feeling of exhaustion. She would perhaps achieve three hours of uninterrupted sleep before her mind tore her cruelly from it, and she would wake feeling anxious and on edge, all her fears concerning her condition and the inevitable loss assaulting her all at once. In a desperate attempt to avoid such thought and achieve as much sleep as she was able to, which her body craved and her mind required, Bedelia would read and listen to music, or watch something familiar and utterly mind-numbing on her laptop, which thankfully assisted in passing the time. In fact, if it weren’t for the time between sleep and distraction being punctuated by routine meals and examinations, she may lose track of where one day ended and another began. But one always ended, and another would swiftly follow, and the loss which she awaited did not come. In fact, as the week progressed towards its end, Bedelia found herself acknowledging a fact which troubled her profoundly.

She was starting to feel better.

Despite the initial irregularity of her sleeping patterns, Bedelia found herself feeling generally rather well. Her appetite had been gradually improving during the week, which the perceptive Hannibal had acknowledged by supplementing her meals with snacks at regular intervals, which she found herself eating out of either stress or boredom, or possibly a combination of the two. As a result, she found herself experiencing fewer dizzy spells and she had considerably more energy. As the weekend approached, Bedelia found that her increased energy levels meant that she stayed awake for longer periods of time which, thankfully, finally began to result in her sleeping for longer too. Despite being relieved to finally feel more like herself again, Bedelia refused to allow herself to think too much of it, and instead forced herself to accept her initial recovery with reservation.

However, due to the improvements in her general health, and the absence of bleeding or pain or any other worrying symptoms during the week, Bedelia found herself experiencing fleeting moments of hope; but as soon as she internally acknowledged that there was a chance she would not miscarry, she found herself instinctively suppressing such a notion. She reminded herself that her pregnancy was high-risk and she had collapsed twice, and so a third (and almost certainly final) time seemed inevitable. Her condition would not progress, her body would not allow it. But much to her shock and contrary to her conviction, Bedelia found that her body was determined to contradict her doubt.

As the week progressed, Bedelia found that she was gaining a noticeable amount of weight. She had suspected it on Wednesday, when the nightdress she wore felt tighter against her belly than she remembered, and by Friday morning she found herself feeling certain. Her belly, which she had been trying desperately to avoid sight and acknowledgement of, was growing defiantly in the wake of her avoidance, as though to command her attention. And, despite her efforts to ignore it, it succeeded.

In the course of just one week, Bedelia’s belly had grown in size and shape, with her previously modest though discernible rounded belly becoming even bigger, and the shape more defined. Her pregnant belly was now very apparent and impossible to conceal with her own clothes, which were becoming almost uncomfortably restricting. And she was terrified.

As Bedelia waited for her bath to fill, she found herself unable to ignore the fact any longer. She therefore removed her nightclothes with some hesitation, before forcing herself to look down at her belly, which she had been avoiding for the best part of a week.

As soon as her gaze befell her swollen belly, Bedelia realised the modest yet noticeable change in her size and shape; she was unquestionably pregnant, and it would no longer be possible to conceal it. Though this was hardly surprising, as she was now approaching her eighteenth week of pregnancy.

As Bedelia stared down at her belly and considered her internal acknowledgement, Bedelia felt tears burning in her eyes. She closed her eyes tightly and put her hand over her face, as she sobbed quietly against the backdrop of running water.

After allowing herself to cry for a few minutes, Bedelia wiped her tears away with a trembling hand, and glanced down once more towards her belly.

 _Hannibal will have noticed, too_ , she thought. _He hasn’t mentioned it, though,_ she realised, understanding why the moment the thought entered her mind.

As Bedelia stared at her growing belly, she found herself considering her regular and plentiful meals during the week, which Hannibal had supplemented with snacks that she found herself unable to resist. Her appetite had certainly been improving as of late, and she had eaten more in this past week than she had done in the past two at least. The fact that she had also been considerably less active than usual, due to Hannibal’s insistence that she remain in bed, was also a contributing factor.

Bedelia swallowed hard and continued to stare at her belly, the sight of it growing and clearly and prominently displaying her pregnancy causing that familiar hopeful sensation to blossom in her mind. She was recovering, she was healthy, and the baby was clearly growing, so-

 _Stop_ , Bedelia thought firmly, suppressing all thoughts of such a notion, which she knew was impossible. _Just stop_.

And so, forcing her attentions away from her belly, Bedelia ignored the tears which were stinging her eyes and walked slowly towards the bath in something akin to a trance. She then turned off the tap and tested the temperature with her hand, before stepping into the tub and leaning back, before closing her eyes and willing her mind to stop.

After hearing Bedelia drain the water of the bath half an hour later, Hannibal waited fifteen minutes before preparing her some freshly squeezed orange juice and a fresh pitcher of water, which he placed neatly on a tray. He had carried the tray out of the kitchen and was heading towards her bedroom when the sound of a knock at the front door sent an echo throughout the apartment. Hannibal stilled for just a moment, before placing the tray on a nearby table and walking confidently towards the front door, which he opened without hesitation, greeting the visitors with a polite smile.

The first man was a middle-aged gentleman with cropped grey hair and stubble, with an observant expression and analytical gaze. He was wearing a well-worn suit of good quality and a look of authority, which Hannibal acknowledged was a typical description of most Florentine detectives. His colleague, who was standing unobtrusively behind him in his police uniform, was a slightly younger officer with a handsome face marred by a somewhat distracted expression.

“Good morning” Hannibal greeted pleasantly, addressing the detective before him, whose arrival he had anticipated.

“Good morning, Signor Fell” the detective returned. “I am Inspector Pazzi of the Questura, and this is my colleague, Constable Ricci” he announced. Hannibal smiled politely and nodded in acknowledgement. “I apologise for coming to see you so early and unannounced” he added.

“No apology is necessary” Hannibal assured the inspector, who nodded in assent. “How may I be of assistance?” he asked, despite feeling confident he knew the reason for their call. Though he was somewhat surprised they had not telephoned ahead.

“We would like to speak to you in connection of the disappearance of a gentleman we believe you are familiar with” Inspector Pazzi explained, his eyes not leaving Hannibal’s as he spoke. “His name is Professor Sogliato.”

Hannibal nodded calmly in response and stepped back as he opened the door.

"Of course" he replied amiably. "Please come in."


	43. Chapter 43

After spending over half an hour trying to relax in the bath, Bedelia sighed in frustration at the fruitlessness of her attempts, and got out with marked irritation. Despite her attempts to suppress the hope she found herself experiencing and replace it with a strong dose of reality, she found her resolve wavering, and her ability to ignore it started to wane; indeed, as the days had progressed and the weekend approached with no further bleeding or symptoms of concern, she found she needed more and more energy and resolve to convince herself that her body could not carry this child to term, and its loss was inevitable. And her inability to do so caused her to feel overcome by sadness and uncertainty, but also with fear. As Bedelia attempted to suppress her thoughts and feelings, she quickly secured a large white towel around herself without acknowledging (much less touching) her belly and then proceeded to towel dry her hair with a distinct air of annoyance as she walked into her bedroom.

Finding the towel feeling ever-tighten against her belly and breasts, Bedelia’s anxiety increased sharply at the reminder of precisely how much weight she had gained, and the extent to which her cruel body was defiantly continuing to change, despite the inevitability of the loss of this pregnancy.

 _Condition_ , Bedelia mentally corrected herself, half in anger and half in sadness, as she placed her damp towel in the washing basket and opened the top drawer of her chest of drawers.

The weight which Bedelia had gained over the past week had been unnerving and unanticipated; she had not considered that she would still pregnant as the weekend approached. And so the fact that she was, together with the physical reminder that her body was cruelly presenting her with, made matters even more difficult for her to bear. So the fact that even her nightdresses were becoming uncomfortably tight was adding further insult to an already significant injury.

Although Bedelia had found her clothing to be increasingly tight and restricting over the past two weeks, this was understandable due to the fact that the majority of her wardrobe was made up of bespoke or tailored garments from expensive boutiques and exclusive designers. The bedrest which Hannibal had insisted she endure had provided her with the opportunity to wear nightdresses and robes throughout the week which had come as a considerable relief; not that she would ever admit it, certainly not to Hannibal. But the nightdresses were now too tight to be comfortable, and she found this to cause her more distress than she felt was reasonable under the circumstances. But not only did the problematic fit of the nightdresses affect her physical comfort, it was beginning to affect her emotional wellbeing too; because the once loose-fitting material now clung to her belly, highlighting its presence and its prominence, as though taunting her. And her breasts, which were fuller and incredibly tender, were also becoming increasingly sore due to the tightness of the silk material against her delicate skin.

Bedelia tried on nightdress after nightdress as she considered her dilemma, and after discarding four in annoyance which caused tears to burn in her eyes, she finally found one which she deemed acceptable. The white cotton skimmed neatly over her belly, and whilst it was clear she was carrying some weight, her condition was not immediately discernible. Finding herself feeling somewhat relieved, Bedelia opened the second drawer and removed one of her most expensive robes, a black, grey and white floral silk kimono, which she felt would conceal her growing belly. And, as she adorned it, she quickly found that she was correct. The black silk material draped neatly over her belly, concealing it in a pool of patterned silken darkness.

Feeling some of the tension finally leave her body, Bedelia walked calmly over to her dressing table and applied a single layer of lipstick, which she felt gave her features a healthier, warmer glow. She then quickly brushed her hair and ran her fingers through it, noting the casual tousled appearance of her locks, which she had not styled in over a week. Considering this fact absently and with little interest, Bedelia then removed a new sanitary towel from the top drawer of her dressing table, before rising to her feet and making her way back towards her wardrobe, where she selected a new pair of underwear, which she quickly adorned. Although she had not experienced any bleeding in almost a week, she knew it was only a matter of time before she did.

Swallowing thickly, Bedelia then made her way mechanically back towards her bed, easing herself onto it and leaning back against the pillows with resignation. As she did so, she subconsciously clasped her hands together and rested them in her lap, which pulled the silk material of the kimono tighter against her belly. Looking down instinctively, she found herself staring at her prominent rounded belly, which was swathed in floral silk. Bedelia clenched her jaw and swallowed hard, closing her eyes tightly for a few moments in order to regain control of her emotions. She then unclasped her hands and opened her eyes, lifting up her laptop and placing it on her lap, desperate for a distraction.

As Bedelia began to read the headlines of the various international news websites which she perused, she found herself too distracted to concentrate, and unable to even skim the headlines, much less read the articles. She stared at the screen for a moment, her fingers hovering over the keys, as a treacherous thought broke through a gap in the barriers which her mind had set in place.

Without allowing herself even a moment to consider what she was doing, Bedelia opened a new tab and began to type the first words which entered her mind, her fingers tapping quickly upon the keys, as though trying to obtain elicit information before her mind punished her for such a transgression.

 _Bleeding second trimester geriatric pregnancy_ , she typed, before hitting the enter key and skimming the results.

Her search brought up countless articles and websites from a variety of sources, from medical sites and journals to online forums and blogs. Bedelia opened all of the medical sites and journal entries into separate tabs, before quickly skimming the rest of the first page of the search results, and then selecting several others from a variety of different sources.

As Bedelia’s keen eyes located article after article and source after source, she found her prevalent reservation and fear overtaken by her curiosity, and she began to read each article with fervour.

Perusing the medical articles first, Bedelia found herself reading familiar terms and descriptions of complications which arose during pregnancy, from vaginal bleeding and miscarriage to placenta accrete and abruption. Statistics for miscarriage in the first and second trimester were revealed, as well as the likelihood of premature labour and even stillbirth. Information concerning symptoms of all of these issues were revealed, and Bedelia read them with fear and trepidation, and was relieved to find that not only did she not currently have any, but her pregnancy had moved beyond the riskiest stage of the first trimester and was progressing through the second, where the chances of a healthy pregnancy were considerably better.

The sudden sound of a knock at the front door drew Bedelia sharply from her thoughts, and she turned instinctively towards the sound. Although it had been a fairly frequent occurrence during the week due to Hannibal’s preference for ordering items to be delivered to enable him to remain at home with her as much as possible, the distraction was enough to shatter the calmness and concentration she had experienced whilst reading, and the hope which she had felt begin to pool warmly in the base of her belly was now replaced with fear and dread.

As Bedelia returned her attentions to the screen she found her previous resolve abandoning her, as her fear and confliction replaced her curiosity. The fact that the words which leapt out at her now were _“premature delivery”,_ _“stillbirth”_ and _“placental abruption”_ did little to comfort her, and she pushed the laptop aside with an air of finality.

Clasping her hand to her mouth and closing her eyes, Bedelia took in a deep breath and tried to calm herself, as her deep feelings of confliction and turmoil threatened to overcome her completely.

It therefore came as almost a relief, in that moment, that Bedelia heard the front door close, and several sets of footsteps make their way into the parlour.

Opening her eyes and turning towards her bedroom door, Bedelia quietened her mind and focused on the present, as the sound of the footsteps were replaced with the low, dulcet tones of voices. Hannibal had not permitted anyone to enter the apartment all week, and she could not imagine who he would admit to their sanctuary without cause or reason. Dismissing her thoughts she continued to listen intently. She recognised Hannibal’s familiar timbre almost immediately, and her keen senses were heightened by the presence of a second voice, which was confident and unfamiliar. Bedelia frowned in concentration and slowly eased herself off the bed, before making her way towards her bedroom door and standing against it. The second voice was clearer now, though not completely, so she tentatively opened the door a few inches in order to hear what was being said. The voice was that of an Italian man in his mid-to-late forties. It was pleasant, confident and assured, and Hannibal was responding in kind. Although she could not make out the entire conversation and had missed the beginning, there was one distinct word which Hannibal uttered which caused her stomach to clench.

_Inspector._

Bedelia inhaled sharply and held onto the doorframe to steady herself, as she lingered unobtrusively inside her bedroom and continued to listen to the conversation, attempting to suppress her concern in order to enable herself to concentrate.

 _“Si, Dottore, si”_ came the inspector’s reply. _“Professor Sogliato is very well known in Florence…”_

Bedelia felt her heart begin to race in her chest, and she took a deep breath and attempted to calm herself, missing part of the conversation as a result. She recovered herself quickly and turned her attentions to the matter at hand once more.

 _“I understand you are married, Doctor Fell”_ the inspector commented casually. _“Is your wife at home?”_

Bedelia stood up straight and leaned against the doorframe as she considered her next course of action. Although she had received firm instructions to remain in bed, this visit from the Police was unprecedented, though not entirely unexpected; Hannibal worked with the Professor, so it was natural the Police would wish to speak to him in relation to his disappearance. But with the complications concerning her condition, she had neglected to give this as much thought as she should have, and she was frustrated at her own lack of foresight. Bedelia forced aside her own self-recrimination and focused instead on the current predicament, and Hannibal’s response to the inspector’s question.

 _“She is at home, but I am afraid she is indisposed at present”_ Hannibal explained politely. _“She is recovering from a recent illness.”_

Bedelia let out a sharp breath as she considered the dilemma. Although she felt confident Hannibal would have covered his tracks and removed all traces of evidence linking himself (and, by extension, her) to the Professor’s death, she did not want to risk making the inspector suspicious by her absence. And so, without further hesitation, she smoothed down her kimono, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and walked out of her bedroom and towards the parlour with all the confidence she could muster.

As Bedelia walked barefoot across the cold floor, she found herself quickly reaching her destination, her eyes befalling the sight of the inspector, who looked exactly as she imagined him. He was standing to the side next to a uniformed officer, and was facing the piano, where she presumed Hannibal was standing.

“I am sorry to hear that, Dottore” the inspector responded, his tone polite and his voice sincere. “I hope it is nothing serious.”

Bedelia entered the parlour just as Hannibal was about to respond.

“No, not at all” Bedelia responded, her voice echoing in the room. The policemen turned towards her immediately, and she caught a brief look of shock in Hannibal’s eyes, as he turned his head towards her. “A rather bad case of food poisoning, but I am recovering well enough” Bedelia advised, as she smiled politely at the inspector and extended her hand. “Lydia Fell” she introduced.

As Bedelia and the inspector shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, Hannibal walked calmly towards them, and Bedelia looked up and met his gaze just as she lowered her hand.

“Do you know what caused your food poisoning?” Inspector Pazzi asked curiously. Bedelia sighed lightly.

“Oysters” she responded simply, prompting the inspector to wince and nod in agreement.

“I do not like them myself” he confessed.

“They are rather an acquired taste” Bedelia replied, finding her heart beat faster as Hannibal made his way towards her.

“Indeed they are” Hannibal concurred. “I do not believe that Lydia will be having any more for quite some time” he added. Bedelia forced a small smile and nodded in agreement. Perhaps she would not. “You are not completely recovered yet, Lydia” Hannibal reminded her gently, his voice kind and his expression one of confidence and concern. “I did not wish to trouble you with this, you really should be resting” he advised, placing his hand gently upon her waist. Bedelia leaned into his touch instinctively.

“I heard voices” she explained simply, offering the inspector and his colleague a warm smile. “My husband is very protective, and has insisted on my resting for almost a week now, and I must confess I am finding it increasingly difficult and unbelievably dull” she said pleasantly. The inspector smiled with understanding, as he stared approvingly at Bedelia. Hannibal ignored the lascivious glint in the older man’s eye and returned his attentions to Bedelia.

“Please sit down” Hannibal said gently, his voice kind and sincere. Bedelia looked up at Hannibal with gentle eyes and nodded in agreement.

“Very well” she assented, as Hannibal placed his arm around her back and guided her to the nearest chair.

As Hannibal escorted Bedelia to the nearest brown leather armchair, he cast a subtle glance down at her attire, observing the concealment of her growing belly beneath the layers of black silk. Whilst the kimono was sufficiently capable of concealing her belly, it was not so accommodating with her breasts, which were notably fuller than usual. Hannibal had, of course, observed this as the week had progressed, but the fact was especially apparent at present, despite Bedelia’s attempts to cover her body. He smiled warmly at Bedelia as she eased herself down onto the seat, and then stood protectively beside her. The inspector watched the scene with approval, and turned to face the Fells, as the Dottore stood next to his wife.

“Are you here about Professor Sogliato?” Bedelia asked conversationally, having overheard enough of their conversation to know that this was the case. “My husband told me he was missing. Has he returned home?” she asked, adopting a tone and expression of sincere curiosity. Inspector Pazzi shook his head.

“No, Signora, he has not” he advised. “I apologise for disturbing you at home at such an hour, especially when you are unwell-”

“Please, inspector, do not apologise” Bedelia responded, adopting enough politeness and curiosity to ensure she appeared helpful but not suspiciously curious. “My husband and I are happy to assist you in any way we can” she declared, crossing her left leg over her right one as she spoke.

As Bedelia crossed her left leg over her right, her kimono and nightdress rose up slightly, revealing a flash of upper thigh. The inspector’s gaze darted immediately towards her exposed flesh, even though Bedelia immediately remedied the minor wardrobe malfunction. Hannibal’s gaze followed the inspector’s and his eyes darkened for a moment, and he stared fixedly at the policeman who, either by courtesy or awareness of Hannibal’s gaze, quickly averted his own.

Inspector Pazzi, who suspected the Dottore had noticed him stare at the exposed flesh of his beautiful and charming wife, swallowed thickly and proceeded with his questioning.

“I appreciate that, Signora” the inspector responded warmly, holding Signora Fell’s gaze, and avoiding making eye contact with her husband. “Although Professor Sogliato was a colleague of your husband’s, I understand that you met him” he prompted.

“Yes, I did” Bedelia confirmed, speaking calmly and clearly. “The first time we met was about three weeks ago at a charity gala, where I met many of my husband’s colleagues” she added casually. Inspector Pazzi nodded in understanding and made notes, as Hannibal helpfully provided him with the exact date and location.

“And the second time?” the inspector asked, returning his attentions to Signora Fell once more.

“That was when we had him for dinner” Hannibal stated, his voice deadpan, his expression unreadable. “Wasn’t it, darling?” he asked, as he titled his head down towards Bedelia. Bedelia forced a smile and ignored a rising feeling of irritation.

“Yes, I believe it was” Bedelia confirmed. “The professor dined with us about a week and a half ago” she explained, looking up at Hannibal as she spoke, her tone inquisitive. Once again, Hannibal provided the exact date, and the inspector made a note of it.

“That makes you two of the last people to see the Professor before he disappeared” the inspector remarked.

“Is that so?” asked Bedelia. The inspector nodded and continued to make notes.

“How did he seem to you, during the evening?” he asked, glancing from Hannibal to Bedelia.

“It’s difficult to say, as I had only met him once before” Bedelia temporised. “From memory, he was very conversational and content, and he certainly enjoyed the food” she began, before considering her next words. “I do not believe he approved of my husband’s appointment as curator to the Cappone Library, and he was not always as polite and courteous as he might have been” she stated honesty. “But I can’t say he gave me any reason for concern that night” she stated. The inspector nodded in acknowledgement as he made some notes, before turning his attentions towards Hannibal.

“And yourself, Dottore?” he asked politely.

Bedelia sat still and took in several deep breaths as she listened to Hannibal provide a helpful but succinct (and fairly accurate) account of the evening they shared. Though, in Hannibal’s version of events, the Professor enjoyed his Punch Romaine so much he had a second glass, then proceeded to expound his knowledge on Italian cuisine whilst he served each course.

“From what I understand, the Professor was an expert on many things, and he liked other people to know about it” Inspector Pazzi explained. Hannibal considered his words and nodded.

“I would say this is accurate” he agreed. The inspector smiled politely.

“Do you remember what time he left?” he asked, addressing both of the Fells.

Bedelia looked up at Hannibal and met his gaze.

“Around eleven-thirty?” Bedelia asked.

“I believe it was closer to twelve” Hannibal temporised, before looking up at the inspector. “We had cognac at eleven-thirty, and he left approximately fifteen to twenty minutes after that” he stated.

“Was he intoxicated when he left?” the inspector wondered aloud.

“No” Bedelia responded confidently. “He only had two glasses of Punch Romaine, which he had at around eight as we began the first course, and then a single measure of cognac at the end of the evening” she added helpful. The inspector thanked her and made note.

“Did he say where he was going when he left?” the inspector asked.

“I assumed he was going home” Hannibal responded.

“Did he make it home?” Bedelia asked gently. “I understand he is married” she added, as she continued to try to ensure she spoke about the professor in the present tense.

“The Professor was recently separated” the inspector advised. “He was staying in a hotel, and he is not shown on the CCTV as having returned that night.”

“I see” Bedelia said quietly, clasping her hands in her lap.

“Did you have any contact with him after that night?” the inspector asked.

“No” Bedelia replied.

“Though he was due to dine with us the following evening” Hannibal advised. The inspector looked up at him. “Professor Sogliato and our colleague, Dr Marcelli and his wife” he explained.

“The Marcellis attended, but the professor did not” Bedelia advised. “We had been expecting him, but he never arrived” she temporised.

“Did you consider that to be unusual?” the inspector asked. Bedelia met his gaze.

“Neither myself nor my husband know him well enough to determine whether he is in the habit of accepting invitations and then not attending” Bedelia replied. “I confess, I did not give it too much thought on the night, as we were so engaged in entertaining the Marcellis” she explained.

“After they left we did try to telephone him, but received no response” Hannibal stated. He had made the telephone call from the apartment in case of this very eventuality. “I assumed he had simply forgotten, possibly due to the fact he had dined with us the night before.”

The inspector nodded and made notes once more, remaining silent for almost a minute. He then looked up at Bedelia and met her gaze, and she returned it with a look of confidence.

“We have spoken to the Marcellis, who reported him missing the day after when he did not arrive at a meeting” he explained. “Signora Marcelli remembers she criticised the professor for not attending, and you said that he had sent his regrets” he advised. Bedelia held his gaze with calmness, her expression unchanging.

“Yes, I did” Bedelia admitted. “Dr and Signora Marcelli are very influential people and have donated a considerable amount of money to the Cappone Library” she advised. “I did not want them to think the professor rude, so I told them that he had sent his apologies, though in reality he had not” she explained. “The professor is a colleague of my husband, and I wanted to extend him the courtesy of excusing his discourteous absence” she said simply.

Hannibal watched the inspector and was satisfied to see that he believed Bedelia’s explanation, though this did not surprise him. For despite knowing that it was untrue, he almost found himself believing it too.

“That was very kind of you, Signora” the inspector remarked sincerely.

“It was a white lie told with the best of intentions” Bedelia responded honestly. “Though in hindsight I should not have been so quick to dismiss his absence” she added regrettably.

“You could not have known, Signora” the inspector soothed. “It is unlikely you could have done anything even if you did have reason to suspect his absence was not innocent” he added gently. “We have had some unconfirmed sightings of him in the hours after he left your home, but they are vague and not very helpful” he added solemnly. “But, between us, he had accrued massive gambling debts and remortgaged his house without his wife’s knowledge” he said quietly. “His wife also believes he was having an affair” he added.

“Oh, my” Bedelia breathed, her surprise somewhat sincere. Professor Sogliato was certainly arrogant and entitled, so it did not surprise her greatly that he was a gambler and a cheat. She was more relieved at the convenience of his indiscretions than surprised by them, as they provided multiple reasons why he may have disappeared. Or _been_ disappeared. She felt relief flood through her, and this increased tenfold with the inspector’s next declaration.

“We ran a trace on his phone and found that the last text message he sent to his wife, which was in response to her demand to a divorce, was sent from Port Livorno at three o’clock in the morning on the night of his disappearance – so less than four hours after he left you” he explained to the Fells. “We found his car less than half a mile away” he added.

Bedelia nodded slowly in understanding. The port was over fifty miles away. That certainly explained Hannibal’s three hour disappearance that night. She wondered absently how he got back to the apartment if he abandoned Sogliato’s car.

“Is it possible he caught a ferry and travelled abroad?” Bedelia asked.

“We cannot rule it out” the inspector replied. “His passport is missing, so it is possible” he added. “We are making enquiries at the port” Bedelia nodded in response. “If he was not on any of the departing ships we will send divers to search for a body, though if there is one it will probably be out to sea by now” he added casually. “I take it you were both here that night?” he asked, adopting a casual tone when both Hannibal and Bedelia knew that the question was anything but.

“Yes” Bedelia confirmed. “My husband stayed up and tidied the kitchen, and I bathed and went to bed” she stated.

“Do you remember what time you went to bed, Dottore?” the inspector asked. Hannibal met the older man’s gaze and decided that he simply could not resist.

“I believe it was shortly before one” Hannibal temporised, turning his attentions towards Bedelia as he spoke. “Do you recall, darling?”

“That sounds accurate” Bedelia replied. “Yes” she confirmed.

“Were you not asleep, Signora?” the inspector asked.

“She was not” Hannibal responded. “My wife and I did not go to sleep until almost three” he stated, holding the inspector’s gaze as he spoke. Bedelia felt her irritation rise. She knew precisely what Hannibal was doing.

“I see” the inspector responded, before making a further note. Bedelia sighed gently. She was sure he did. “Well, thank you, Dottore, Signora, you have been most helpful” he stated, smiling politely. “I will be in touch if I have any further questions” he added.

Bedelia rose to her feet, despite his protestations, and shook his hand.

“I hope you find him safe and well” she said kindly.

“Si, Signora, so do I” the inspector returned. “But based on his debts, his wife and the anger of his mistress, it might be best for him if I do not find him at all” he stated. Bedelia nodded solemnly in response.

“Allow me to see you out” Hannibal said chivalrously, as the policemen bade the Fells goodbye, and allowed themselves to be guided out of the apartment.

Bedelia walked calmly across the parlour and towards the window, staring out of it as she tried to calm herself. She watched the policemen get into their car, and heard Hannibal’s footsteps slowly approach her. She turned around and fixed him with a reproachful stare.

“Everything is fine” Hannibal assured her, placing his hand on her lower back. Bedelia’s gaze did not waver.

“That was close, Hannibal” she reminded him. “The closest we have come.”

Hannibal stared at her with an unreadable expression.

“We dealt with it” Hannibal replied simply. “Thankfully, Professor Sogliato had a more colourful personal life than we could have anticipated” he added.

“We were lucky” she stated with conviction. “We cannot afford to make ourselves persons of interest to the police in any capacity” she advised. “There cannot be a next time” she added firmly. Hannibal held her gaze.

“There won’t be” he assured her.

Bedelia stared at Hannibal, and tried to discern any remnants of sincerity in his tone and expression. But as ever, he was incredibly difficult to read.

“I hope that’s true, Hannibal” she said quietly. “For both our sakes” she added, before turning on the spot and walking confidently past him, as she headed back towards the sanctuary of her bedroom.

Hannibal heard the bedroom door close with a click of finality, and he turned his attentions towards the window, watching as the police car disappeared into the distance. 


	44. Chapter 44

Bedelia walked calmly into her bedroom and closed her bedroom door behind her, before leaning against it and closing her eyes. The fear and frustration which she had been battling to suppress at the latest consequences of Hannibal’s recklessness soon rose within her body, and she found herself experiencing an annoyance bordering on anger. Hannibal’s murder of the professor had been a gross overreaction caused by nothing more than impoliteness, and the drastic act of retribution had compromised their identities and their safety. They were fortunate that the professor’s colourful personal life provided a plausible explanation for his hasty departure from Florence, but despite this, Bedelia was no more confident that they were in the clear than she was that Hannibal would not act in a similar way in the future. On such an occasion they may not be so lucky, and if this pregnancy was to continue (and there were signs that it might) the stakes were higher than they ever had been before, and Hannibal was apparently prepared to risk everything for the sake of his own ego.

As she appreciated the importance of calmness for both her physical wellbeing and mental capabilities, Bedelia swallowed hard and attempted to release her anger with an exhale, but it was no use. In fact, the more she tried to calm herself, the more angry she felt herself becoming.

The complications arising from her surprise pregnancy had meant that resting and taking care of her own physical wellbeing had been her priority over the past couple of weeks, but the combination of her improved health and the arrival of the Police forced an immediate shift in her mind. Although the subject of maintaining their false identities and their secrets was never far from her mind, her focus in recent weeks had been almost exclusively upon her high-risk pregnancy and the complications she had endured. Her ill health and Hannibal’s insistence on her confinement had made it all too easy to lose sight of the other pressing matters which they needed to address, but the sudden arrival of Inspector Pazzi had brought this other aspect of their reality right back to the forefront of her mind.

Sighing and releasing another long, calming breath, Bedelia opened her eyes and found herself gazing warily around her bedroom. As her gaze befell the unmade bed, her open laptop and the ill-fitting nightdresses she had discarded in frustration, she found the hope she had allowed herself to begin to feel in relation to her pregnancy quickly fade, and become replaced almost immediately with realisation of her own chaotic reality. 

Ignoring the familiar sensation of dizziness her body inflicted upon her as punishment for standing for too long, Bedelia walked briskly across the room and threw open the curtains, before opening her wardrobe and mounting a futile search for something that would fit her. This latest development had eroded her willingness and ability to rest, and she was tired of being treated like an invalid. And resting was a luxury she could not afford given the pressing dangers they currently faced.

A polite knock at her bedroom door provided a most unwelcome interruption to her thoughts, and her annoyance was demonstrated quite clearly by her impatient “yes?” as a beautifully tailored black dress which she quickly accepted would no longer fit her. She cast that hanger aside with an air of frustration as Hannibal entered the room with her breakfast tray.

Bedelia’s tone and her current actions made it immediately clear to Hannibal that she was most unhappy, and it was not his experience as a psychiatrist which helped him to diagnose the cause. After the exchange with Inspector Pazzi he had expected her to be angry, and he was grateful that the breakfast tray provided him with an excuse to come and see her so they could discuss it. However, he had not expected to see her standing by her wardrobe and searching through it with increasing vexation. For a moment he wondered if she was intending to leave again, and he experienced a sudden tightening in the pit of his stomach at the notion. As he placed the breakfast tray down upon her bedside table and walked slowly towards her, he found himself trying to suppress the sudden feeling of deep unease which was threatening to overcome him. His glance befell the four nightdresses which she had discarded unceremoniously upon the floor at some point earlier that morning, and he looked up at her with curiosity and concern.

“Bedelia, what are you doing?” Hannibal asked calmly, as Bedelia continued to search through her wardrobe, where attentions remained fixed. She had not even looked up to acknowledge him since he entered the room.

“I’m getting dressed” Bedelia said simply, as she cast two more garments aside, and then a third, all in quick succession. “At least I would be, if any of them fit me” she added, her tone punctuated with marked irritation. “I am tired of feeling like an invalid” she stated quietly.

Hannibal watched Bedelia for a moment and nodded in understanding and relief; she was not intending to leave, she simply wished to get dressed. It was not surprising that the visit from the police had caused her to feel vulnerable and inactive, and her desire to gain control – even if merely sartorial – was understandable. The combination of her increasing appetite, weeklong bedrest and the fact she was now four and a half months pregnant had meant that her condition was now rather prevalent, and he had been please and reassured to notice the extent of her weight gain during his daily examinations of her. However, Bedelia’s awareness of her weight gain was also something which he suspected had been concerning her lately, and not simply due to the restrictions her current wardrobe presented her with as a result. Bedelia was doubtful that this pregnancy would continue, in fact there were times that she was confident it would not, and so the increased swell of her belly seemed to be a cruel and visceral reminder of what she felt she would soon lose. However, in recent days she had expressed less doubts over the inevitability of the loss of their unborn child, and he had hoped that she had become more confident as the week had progressed. It was in that hope he had taken the liberty of making various purchases which he was intending to present her with on Sunday evening. However, it was quite clear she was no longer content to remain in her nightclothes.

“You should be resting” Hannibal said gently, as he took a tentative step towards her.

“I am not your patient, Hannibal, and I am not an invalid,” she stated with conviction as she neared the end of the wardrobe, her tone and her eyes reflecting her anger. Hannibal held her gaze and watched her with a calm expression. They both knew her anger was about much more than her confinement.

“No, you are not” Hannibal temporised, choosing his words carefully in an attempt not to upset her further. “But you are still recovering and it is important that you rest” he explained. “Just for a couple more days” he added softly. Bedelia sighed and continued checking through the last dozen items in her wardrobe. 

“I do not want to rest” she stated with conviction, her voice low and weary. Hannibal watched her carefully.

“I’m afraid I must insist” he replied quietly. Bedelia closed her wardrobe door in frustration and turned towards him with eyes ablaze.

“I’m afraid I must decline” she stated, her anger rising as she spoke, Hannibal’s further attempt to control her causing the emotions she had tried to suppress to overcome her completely. “How do you expect me to relax when you bring the police to our door?” she asked incredulously.

“The police are gone, and I do not believe they will return” Hannibal said calmly, his voice low and respectful. "They seem satisfied with the conclusion they themselves have drawn” he informed her. “They came here to see if there was any reason to question that conclusion, and we did not provide them with one” he added confidently. “They do not suspect the truth, and they never will, they have no cause to” he said gently.

Bedelia stared at Hannibal and found herself slightly placated the truth in his words and his comforting tone. She let out a calming breath and held his gaze.

“And what about the next time, Hannibal?” she asked, an icy edge to her tone as she spoke. “And the time after that?” she added, taking a step towards him and holding his gaze with a look of conviction. “How many more times are you going to risk our exposure? Our freedom?” she continued, her emotions rising as she spoke. “Our baby?” she quickly added, almost choking on the last word as soon as she realised she had spoken it out loud. She turned away from him immediately, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Hannibal felt the knot in his stomach tighten, and his chest started to ache, as he was overcome with feelings which he had not experienced until quite recently. Swallowing hard and ignoring his own rising emotions, Hannibal took a single step forward and placed his hand on Bedelia’s waist. He was relieved and encouraged that she did not move away from him the moment he touched her. Instead, she looked up at him with wary and emotional eyes.

“There will not be a next time” he stated with conviction, as he stroked a stray lock of her hair away from her eyes. “You have my assurance that I will not act in the same… impulsive manner as I did on that occasion” he stated. “It was reckless and I should have exercised more control” he conceded.

Bedelia stared at Hannibal and listened closely, finding herself feeling shocked by his uncharacteristic admission of having acting wrongly. Although she was well aware he was not assuring her he would not kill again, she was comforted by his promise not to be as reckless as he had been. And more importantly, she believed him. Bedelia swallowed hard and nodded.

“If you do not wish to return to your bed, I will not ask you to do so again” Hannibal continued. “But I would ask that you remain off your feet as much as possible” he stated. “I understand it is frustrating, but it is necessary” he explained. Bedelia exhaled sharply and nodded in agreement. It was a fair compromise. “If you will take a seat” he encouraged, as he led her towards the bed, where she sat down with a relief she would not admit to. “I have something for you” he added, before turning on his heel and walking quietly out of the room.

Bedelia sat silently on her bed as she felt her anger overridden by embarrassment which washed over her in torturous waves. Her unintentional reference to her condition as a “baby” caused her to feel more vulnerable than she had sitting in front of Inspector Pazzi just minutes before, and the realisation of the fear she had unwittingly expressed out loud caused her to feel dizzy with confusion. The black silk material of her nightdress suddenly felt tighter around her belly, which she knew was impossible, and yet she could not quite ignore it. Instead, she found herself placing a hand tentatively at the base of her rounded belly and pulling the material tighter still, which outlined its prominent shape and made her condition quite apparent, and caused her eyes to fill with tears.

Bedelia heard familiar footsteps approaching the bedroom door and blinked the tears back furiously, turning towards the door just as Hannibal opened it and stepped back into the room. Her emotional expression quickly turned into one of confusion as she watched him carry six large bags over to her bed.

Hannibal placed the bags next to her on the bed, and Bedelia’s curious gaze drifted across them. Four of the bags were from expensive designer stored which she favoured, and the other two were unfamiliar to her. She could tell that each bag was full with what appeared to be clothes, and she looked up at Hannibal for an explanation.

“Due to your penchant for fitted clothing I anticipated that your current garments may not be comfortable, given your current condition” Hannibal began tentatively. Bedelia, who was listening intently whilst being distracted by the bags beside her, internally acknowledged Hannibal’s choice of words, and commended him for them. “So I took the liberty of purchasing some new garments for you, mostly from your preferred couturiers, which I hope you will like” he continued. “Of course, if there is anything which is not to your taste I will return them” he assured her. “I also obtained catalogues from each of the stores for you to choose your own clothing, should you wish to do so, which I have placed in the respective bags” he explained.

Hannibal had anticipated Bedelia would be reluctant to acknowledge her weight-gain and its implications, especially given the complications she had experienced, and so he hoped that his solution would be more palatable to her. But as he watched her now, eyes drifting from bag to bag, jaw set and eyes heavy with emotion, he wondered whether he had made the right decision.

“After you have eaten and had the opportunity to review the clothing and the catalogues, perhaps you would join me in the parlour” Hannibal invited politely. “If you would like to, of course” he added respectfully, before turning on the spot and walking calmly towards the bedroom door. He had just opened it when the sound of Bedelia’s voice recalled him.

“Hannibal” Bedelia said gently, prompting him to turn towards her and meet her gaze. She looked up at him with a confident and grateful expression. “Thank you” she said sincerely. A small smile tugged at the corner of Hannibal’s mouth and he nodded, before stepping out of the bedroom and closing the door firmly behind him.


	45. Chapter 45

Bedelia sat silently on the end of the bed, her knees pressed and her hands clasped, the perfect image of calmness and composure. It was only the tightness of her jaw and slight widening of her eyes that gave her away, both of which intensified as her gaze befell the six bags beside her. Although she had avoided even considering the subject of maternity clothes, due to both her doubt over the precarious nature of her condition as well as her own insecurity, the treacherously restrictive nature of her wardrobe was rather forcing her hand, and she began to find herself feeling tempted. She found herself feeling both touched and overwhelmed by Hannibal’s kind gesture, but as she reached a cautious hand towards the first bag she hesitated, the seemingly daunting nature of the task overriding her innate curiosity and her need.

Sighing in frustration at what she perceived as her own weakness, Bedelia rose from the bed and made her way towards her breakfast tray, which was a most welcome distraction. Although her appetite had rather waned since her interview with the inspector, the scent of scrambled eggs and butter had prompted its immediate return, and she was more than willing to indulge it.

Ignoring the bags which were behind her, Bedelia quickly consumed two slices of toast and a generous amount of scrambled eggs, which left her feeling pleasantly warm and sated. She drank the remainder of the freshly squeezed orange juice with the cocktail of tablets which Hannibal had prescribed, before wiping her mouth with a silk napkin. Finding herself feeling oddly calmed and comforted after her breakfast, Bedelia sat in a reflective silence for several minutes, and quickly became lost in her thoughts.

After a few moments more, Bedelia emerged back into the present with a renewed sense of confidence, and turned her attentions towards the bags with a look of determination. Reaching for the closest one and drawing it towards her, Bedelia opened it without hesitation and looked curiously inside, finding herself calming notably the moment she did so.

Without allowing herself time to pause (much less to think), Bedelia reached into the bag and removed the contents, which she placed neatly on her lap. The clothing, which was from one of her favourite (and most expensive) designers, consisted of four beautiful ruched neck silk blouses, which were utterly divine and absolutely her style. The blouses were identical in design and differed only in colour, with Hannibal selecting ones in white, black, burgundy and midnight blue. The silk blouses, which were soft and exquisite, were designed in a way which ensured that the material would float gently over one’s stomach, ensuring it remained both flattering and modest, and she was quite confident it would conceal her condition whilst also being comfortable.

After examining the four blouses, Bedelia folded them up neatly and returned them to the bag, removing the catalogue it contained and placing it on her bedside table, before moving on to the next one, which she approached with much more confidence than the first.

Over the next ten minutes Bedelia opened and considered the contents the next four bags, which filled her with both gratitude and relief. Hannibal had displayed his sartorial expertise and shopping prowess once more, possibly excelling himself in any and all previous attempts. Amongst the clothing he had thoughtfully purchased for her were various loose fitting tops, blouses and jumpers, all in her style and ones which she would almost certainly have purchased for herself. He had also bought her four wrap dresses in black, crimson, white and midnight blue which, like the blouses, were not specifically maternity clothes, but would ensure she was comfortable and unrestricted and had plenty of room to grow. Which, she realised, was precisely what Hannibal had intended. For he would certainly have anticipated her anxiety concerning this particular matter, given both the precarious nature of her surprise pregnancy and her uncharacteristic feelings of insecurity resulting from it. However, as she opened the final bag she realised she had not been able to completely escape the clutches of maternity wear.

The final bag, which was from a familiar and exclusive boutique in the city, contained garments which caused a sudden wave of fear to afflict her, causing her breath to catch in her throat.

The bag contained three skirts and one pair of trousers, the latter of which took her aback slightly, as she very rarely wore them. But this particular pair were in a black material which felt rather like denim though appeared more formal, and could be dressed up or down with relative ease. However, as she opened them up to examine them more closely, her curiosity was replaced with anxiety, as her attentions were drawn to the excess black material above the elasticated waistband, which was designed to rest over a pregnant woman’s belly.

They were maternity trousers.

Hannibal had bought her _maternity trousers_.

Although the rational part of Bedelia’s mind was waging a losing war against her anxiety, she found herself confronting one of the many insecurities she felt concerning her condition: which was, in fact, acknowledgement of the condition itself.

Bedelia still found it difficult to acknowledge her condition, refusing to refer to it either internally or aloud as a ‘pregnancy’, despite her recent slip when talking to Hannibal by referring to their ‘baby’. The combination of her shock at her present condition, combined with the complications she had experienced and the doubt that the condition would progress far beyond the present, meant that she had not completely accepted it, much less considered its wider implications, and certainly not in respect of her wardrobe. Although, as her health had improved as the week had progressed she had found herself allowing her mind to wander, as her hands did to the growing belly which pressed assertively against her nightdresses as though commanding her attention, she still forced herself to remain detached when it came to her condition. And holding maternity trousers in her hands did very little to help that cause.

Casting the trousers aside as though they burned her, Bedelia began to examine the three skirts which accompanied them, which were silk pencil skirts in black, dark blue and a rather charming black and white design. However, to her surprise, closer inspection of these garments revealed them to also be maternity line, and she calmly placed them on the bed beside herself. Bedelia then clasped her hands in her lap, closed her eyes firmly and took a deep and calming breath.

She was being ridiculous – irrational, even – she knew she was. But she could not help it. Because as much as she was loathe to admit it, to herself or to Hannibal, she was scared. She was scared of losing this – _condition_ – but also of it continuing. Whilst she acknowledged she wanted it to continue, the very notion filled her with fear and doubt and anxiety so overwhelming it felt as though it would suffocate her.

For almost ten minutes Bedelia sat on the edge of her bed in a deep reflective silence, hands clasped in her lap as she simultaneously considered her dilemma whilst also trying not to. In the end, it was her frustration with herself, and certainly not acceptance or concession, which prompted her to act.

Refusing to allow her emotions and insecurities to have such a profound affect upon her, Bedelia rose to her feet and turned towards her small pile of discarded clothes, and reached for the trousers. After removing her robe and dropping it unceremoniously over her dressing table chair, Bedelia undid the zipper at the front of the trousers and stepped into them, quickly pulling them up her legs and pulling the excess material above the elasticated waistband over her belly, as she zipped them up in a victorious act of defiance.

And almost immediately, she felt _wonderful._

Before Bedelia had chance to even acknowledge the fact she was wearing maternity trousers, she found herself struck almost immediately by how comfortable and supportive they were. After the weeks she had spent forcing herself into control underwear to conceal her growing belly from both Hannibal and herself, the one saving grace about her brief period of forced confinement had been that she could wear nightdresses constantly, though even they had recently started to betray her. But _these trousers_ , as much as she was loathe to admit it, did not betray her at all. In fact, she could not recall the last time she felt as comfortable as she did in that moment.

After permitting herself a few more moments to bask in this new sense of comfort, Bedelia turned towards her long mirror, removed her nightdress and considered her reflection. The trousers were fitted around her legs and complimented her shapely calves and thighs, whilst the excess material encasing her belly gave her a level of comfort and security which had evaded her in recent weeks. Due to the fact it was black, it had the added benefit of being quite slimming, and whilst she did feel supported she was also confident that the trousers would accommodate a considerable amount more growth.

As Bedelia considered her reflection, she found her gaze drawn to her modest yet pronounced belly which the maternity trousers proudly displayed, and her swollen breasts which seemed to be growing with equal vigour. Feeling a sudden wave of fear and discomfort, Bedelia turned away from the mirror and made her way towards her chest of drawers, quickly finding her most comfortable bra and securing it. She then turned her attentions back towards the bed and selected the white ruched neck silk blouse, which felt glorious against her skin. The blouse fit her perfectly, with the white silk material neatly skimming her rounded belly, and concealing it almost completely. As she considered her reflection in the mirror, Bedelia noticed that the material did drift against her belly as she moved which revealed her condition. But she felt so comfortable and supported that she found herself disregarding this particular concern, for the moment at least.

Finding herself feeling increasingly more comfortable, Bedelia made her way towards her dressing table and eased herself onto the chair, and staring at her reflection. Her eyes were bright and devoid of the darkness which had revealed her exhaustion, her cheeks were no longer hollow and her skin was a healthy hue. In fact, upon closer consideration, her skin appeared more than simply healthy; not only was she no longer as pale and drawn as she had been earlier in the week, but her skin was bright and vibrant, and almost glowing. As was her hair, which she suddenly realised seemed thicker and glossier than before, though she had not paid much attention to this until now.

Feeling more human than she had in weeks, Bedelia brushed her hair vigorously and then turned her attentions towards her make-up, applying a modest amount of foundation and powder, before continuing her usual routine with her eye make-up and refreshing her lipstick. Feeling satisfied with the result, Bedelia rose promptly to her feet and returned her attentions to her wardrobe, selecting a pair of black high heels which completed her outfit.

Pointedly ignoring the condition of her bed (and, indeed, the room itself), Bedelia collected her thoughts and prepared herself for the conversation which needed to be had, which she now felt able to handle. She took a deep breath and walked confidently across the room and opened the door, as she headed once more towards the parlour.

Hannibal was sitting in an armchair in the parlour, a look of concentration upon his face as he focused upon the drawing he was working on, as the familiar sound of _Clair De Lune_ played on the gramophone beside the fireplace. The familiar sound of clicking heels upon the stone floors drew Hannibal from his work, and he looked up as Bedelia approached, his eyes smiling at the sight of her.

As Hannibal looked up at Bedelia, he observed the healthy glow of her skin, which was accentuated by the modest make up she had evidently applied. Her hair was arranged in natural waves which fell delicately over her shoulders, appearing thicker and glossier than he had seen them before. Although the black trousers she wore, which had been a gamble on his part, commanded his attentions, he found his gaze drifting instinctively towards her rounded belly, which was discernible to him even when swathed in white silk. Hannibal felt excitement rise within him as warmth radiated in his abdomen, a sensation which he had not experienced until quite recently, but which was becoming increasingly familiar. A warm smile tugged at his lips as he looked up and met her gaze, which was suddenly wary and hesitant, her body becoming visibly tense. 

“Thank you, Hannibal” Bedelia said sincerely, punctuating her gratitude for the clothing with a soft smile before turning on the spot and walking calmly towards the couch, the weight of the words upon her lips increasing with each step.

Hannibal watched her as she moved, and as she sat down on the couch the silk material of her blouse was pulled tighter against her stomach, outlining it in all its splendour. He felt a burst in his belly once again, but this time it was dulled somewhat by the seriousness of her expression, and the tensing of her jaw as she faced him.

“Bedelia?” he asked gently, adopting the tone of the therapist, which Bedelia recognised instantly. “What is it?” Hannibal asked, finding himself feeling suddenly rather wary. And, though he was loathe to admit it, nervous. He was aware she wanted to talk, and indeed he had encouraged the discussion, but her present demeanour caused him considerable concern as to the nature of their discourse.

Bedelia inhaled sharply and met his eyes with an unwavering gaze, finding her comfort increasing her confidence, as the words she had been agonising over in recent weeks simply fell from her lips.

“If we want to do this, then we need to leave Italy” she announced, her voice calm and her manner assured, even though she could feel her heart racing. “As quickly as possible.”


End file.
